


Harry Potter and the Triwizard Tournament

by frostykneecaps



Series: Harry Potter rewrite [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bisexual Harry Potter, Book 4: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Canon Rewrite, Fix-It, Harry literally procrastinates thinking about his sexuality, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, Multi, Not Beta Read, Questioning, Rating May Change, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-18
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:14:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 71,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26530459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frostykneecaps/pseuds/frostykneecaps
Summary: Life for Harry is difficult enough, with girls and school work and trying to discover his identity. But, to add insult to injury, he has been entered into a deadly tournament without his consent. Will Harry survive? And most importantly, will he get the girl/maybe guy?~Hi so this is a new series I’m starting which is a rewrite of the Harry Potter series starting from book/movie 4. I’m attempting to explore a universe in which Harry is bisexual, and all the teenage angst and awkwardness that it will come with. I am following both book and movie canon and plan to continue all the way to the end of the series.
Relationships: Cedric Diggory/Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Harry Potter & George Weasley, Harry Potter & Ron Weasley, Harry Potter/Fred Weasley, Hermione Granger & Harry Potter, Hermione Granger & Harry Potter & Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Luna Lovegood/Ginny Weasley, Seamus Finnigan/Dean Thomas
Series: Harry Potter rewrite [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1934722
Comments: 80
Kudos: 204





	1. A Nightmare on Privet Drive

Harry Potter awoke with a start. A stick-like boy, Harry sat up in bed and groggily pushed his mop of black hair off his forehead, clutching his scar. He winced, as the peculiarly shaped lightning scar on his forehead seared and throbbed as if someone had taken a hot iron to him. Squinting, Harry tried his hardest to recall what his distressing nightmare was about. Echoing in his mind, all he could remember was a voice, cold and grating, the face of a man Harry could swear was familiar, and a flash of green light. The rest of the details, try as he might, slipped from his mind like sand through his fingers.

With a huff, Harry got to his feet, switching on his lamp, it’s warm glow engulfing the room. Harry pulled open his curtain to reveal an empty street, still bathed in darkness. _ “Must still be early,” _ Harry surmised. A loud pig-like snore from his cousin Dudley next door confirmed his suspicions. Glancing over at his bedside table, Harry’s eyes landed on two Birthday cards, sent by his two best friends, Ron and Hermione. His fingers twitching, Harry itched to write them a letter, explaining what had happened. Thinking of his best friends, he tried to imagine what their advice would be in this situation.

_ “Your scar hurts? That’s really serious Harry! You must write to Professor Dumbledore immediately! I’ll start researching in Common Magical Ailments and afflictions right away!”  _ imaginary Hermione shouted shrilly at him.

Write to Dumbledore. Yes that sounded like a good idea. The wisened man was the most powerful wizard Harry had ever met, and rumour had it, was the only wizard Voldemort was afraid of. Harry had no doubt that Dumbledore would know what to do. But at the same time, he cringed at the letter he would have to write.

_ “Dear Professor Dumbledore, Sorry to bother you, but my scar hurt this morning. Yours sincerely, Harry Potter.” _

Yeah, he wasn’t ready to look like a complete idiot in front of Dumbledore.

Switching tactics, Harry tried to imagine what Ron would say.

_ “No way. I mean, it’s impossible for You-Know-Who to be near you right? You know what, don’t worry mate. It’s possible for curse scars to act up every once in a while. I’ll ask Dad.” _

This was an even far less effective solution. Ron’s Dad, Mr Weasley worked in the Ministry of Magic in the department of Misuse of Muggle Artefacts. Thus while being a highly competent wizard, was very unlikely to have knowledge about curses, much less curse scars. Harry also dreaded the idea of the rest of the Weasley family knowing about his ailment. Mrs Weasley, who was a very lovely woman, would undoubtedly fuss over him, unwittingly causing Harry further embarrassment. Ron’s twin older brothers, Fred and George would certainly tease him a fair bit about it. Being close with both of them, Harry was very familiar with their disposition and knew that despite harbouring no ill will, they would endlessly taunt him about it. The Weasley twins always had trouble not knowing when a joke was going too far.

Kneading his forehead with his knuckles, Harry agonised about what to do. Not wanting to bother Dumbledore, and not wanting to embarrass himself in front of the Weasleys, especially since they were planning on taking him to the Quidditch World Cup, he was stuck at a cross roads. This was when a stroke of genius struck him. Sirius.

Rushing over to his desk, Harry pulled out a piece of parchment and quill, as he prepared to write to his godfather, Sirius Black. Being a falsely convicted murderer, Sirius was on the run. Since the start of the summer holidays, Sirius had sent Harry two letters, both attached to unusually colourful tropical birds. Those two letters, which were hidden under a loose floorboard under his bed, had been a source of solace from the misery that was living with the Dursley’s. Scribbling, and occasionally scratching out words, Harry wrote down his letter to Sirius as the sun slowly crept over the horizon bathing his room in a warm glow.

Finished with the letter, Harry reread his messy scrawl.

 _ “Dear Sirius,  
_ _ Thanks for the last letter, that bird was enormous, it could hardly get through my window.  
_ _ Things are the same as usual here. Dudley’s diet isn’t going too well. My aunt found him smuggling doughnuts into the room yesterday. They told him they’d have to cut his pocket money if he keeps doing it, so he got really angry and chucked his PlayStation out of the window. That’s a sort of computer thing you can play games on. Bit stupid really, now he hasn’t even got Mega-Mutilation Part Three to take his mind off things.  
_ _ I’m ok, mainly because the Dursleys are terrified you might turn up and turn them all into bats if I ask you to.  
_ _A strange thing happened this morning, though. My scar hurt again. Last time that happened it was because Voldemort was at Hogwarts. But I don’t reckon he can be anywhere near me now, can he? Do you know if curse scars sometimes hurt years afterwards?_  
_ I’ll send this with Hedwig when she gets back, she’s off hunting at the moment. Say hello to Buckbeak for me.  
_ _Harry”_

That looked quite alright to Harry. He had decided to omit his dream for the simple reason that he didn’t want to come off too concerned. There wasn’t really a point anyway, since he couldn’t recall majority of his dream. Pleased with himself, Harry put the letter outside and glanced out the window, seeing the street bathed in the orange glow of the sunrise. Rising to his feet, Harry got dressed and went for a quick walk before the Dursleys awoke, a habit he had developed over the holidays.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello welcome to a new fic. Right now things are going to stay relatively similar to the books and movies but as time goes on, the storyline will deviate. I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. Stay tuned for more!


	2. Early Dawn Musings

Strolling down the deserted street, Harry reached his destination, the neighbourhood playground. Settling down on a swing, Harry gently rocked back and forth, enjoying the solace of the dawn. Too many times had he been brought here and forced to watch on the sidelines as Dudley played with the other kids. (More often than not, Dudley’s “playing” was just pushing other kids down from the monkey bars. Aunt Petunia would just laugh about how rambunctious her ickle diddykins was.) Harry could still hear Aunt Petunia’s shrill voice in his ear as she talked with the other mums. _“Oh Harry’s such a shy boy, he doesn’t want to play. The only reason he isn’t at home is because Vernon’s out and he would hate to be left home alone.”_ At that point Aunt Petunua would fix him with a steely glare and he’d be forced to smile painfully at whoever she’d decided to pester.

Rocking himself, Harry was brought out of his thoughts by a pair of voices. Spinning around, he spied two boys, one a sandy blonde and one a brunette, walking together, hand-in-hand. Now this in and of itself wasn’t peculiar, but what struck Harry as strange was the closeness between the two boys. They were hunched towards each other, whispering. They looked not unlike the older students at Hogwarts who were hormone riddled and wanted to stick themselves to the person they were dating. 

This was a surprise to Harry. He had of course heard Uncle Vernon mutter curses about people like that, saying they were unnatural. Once, he had shaken his fists at a man wearing high heeled shoes, shoes that Harry faintly recalls Dumbledore wore on a few occasions. He’d had other experiences of course. Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan, his dorm mates and friends at Hogwarts who were both inseparable from each other, had been spotted by him in compromising positions various times. It was nothing too explicit. Just a couple of times Harry had walked into their dormitory to find them springing apart from one another, their hair messy, their faces red. Despite repeated questioning, Seamus and Dean vehemently denied anything out if the ordinary had occured, stating they were  “Just wrestling.”

Apparently finishing their conversation, the brunette boy drew the other into a crushing hug, before pressing-much to Harry’s surprise-a chaste kiss onto the other’s lips before running off. The remaining boy turned around to face Harry and Harry recognised him immediately.

With his blonde hair and electric blue eyes, he was a boy who was hard to forget. His name was Jason Allen and he lived three houses down from Harry.

Eyes wide in shock, both boys were very still, both of them unsure what to do. Jason broke the tension first, walking over, and sitting down in the swing besides Harry’s while clearing his throat awkwardly.

“Hullo Harry.”

“Hi Jason.”

“So uhhh...” Jason scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, trying to find the words. Jason was a few years older than Harry and as a result, was quite a bit larger than Harry. Being an avid Rugby player further lent to his physique as his arms were tanned and muscular, something Harry couldn’t help but notice as Jason stuttered.

“Alright mate, I’m just gonna come right out and ask. Are you gonna tell my parents.”

Shocked out of his reverie, Harry gaped up at Jason.

“What. Tell your parents what?” Huffing exasperatedly, Jason said, “You know. That I’m kissing blokes...” “Why would I tell your parents that.” “I DON’T KNOW. Are you alright with me being gay or not?” Jason burst out.

Harry was stunned into silence. Was he alright with it? He wasn’t quite sure. He felt a bit strange about it but he didn’t hate it to the extent that Uncle Vernon did. Then again, Uncle Vernon seemed to hate a lot.

Not quite meeting Jason’s eye, Harry replied, “Yeah. Yeah I’m alright with it. I won’t tell your parents don’t worry.” Jason smiled in relief and the two lapsed into silence once more.

 _“Gay.”_ The word felt strange in Harry’s mouth. Whenever Uncle Vernon referred to “gay” people, he always referred to them as  “those people” , not unlike the way he referred to magical people. Reflecting on the scene he had unwittingly witnessed earlier, Harry thought about his own experiences. Could he be gay? He’d always felt strange around Oliver Wood, like this bubble of happiness would rise up from his gut and leave him all warm. Or was it just because of Quidditch? Still, he’d been sad to see the older student leave Hogwarts, despite the fact that the two of them rarely met outside of a Quidditch pitch.

But no, he couldn’t be gay. He’d thought Cho Chang was pretty, and he’d felt warm around her too. Surely a gay person wouldn’t feel that way... right? So lost in his own thoughts, Harry didn’t even notice Jason rising until the boy waved his hand in front of Harry’s face.

“I have to go back now or my folks will start to worry. I’ll see you around then Harry,” Jason bid him goodbye, walking back down the street. Harry looked up blearily and noticed the street was no longer bathed in orange glow, but was now brightly lit as the sun shone down from high in the sky. Standing up, Harry made his way back to the Dursleys, resolving himself to think about the issue further at a later date.


	3. Letters from the Post

Just as he reached the house and made himself comfortable at the table, the Dursleys came down. “I see you’re being your usual lazy self then,” Uncle Vernon grunted as he plonked down on a chair, pulling out this morning’s _Daily Mail_. Harry fought the urge to retort that the Dursleys never left him anything to do, locking everything magic of his up. (Harry had secretly retrieved his belongings but that wasn’t the point.) Aunt Petunia strode over time the table, clutching a grapefruit which she then proceeded to solemnly slice into quarters, her lips pursed over her horse-like teeth.

Dudley’s end-of-year report had arrived. Along with it had come some choice words about his grades and behaviour at school, both of which were atrocious. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia however, did the usual thing they always did which was excuse his behaviour with Uncle Vernon stating “he didn’t want some swotty little nancy boy for a son anyway”. However one thing they couldn’t brush off, was the matter of Dudley’s weight. No matter how much Aunt Petunia cried and wailed that Dudley was just big boned, the matter of the fact was that there were no knickerbockers big enough to fit Dudley anymore. So that’s how they had all reached this point, with Aunt Petunia reluctantly ladling one quarter of a grapefruit onto everyone’s plate, with Harry’s piece being significantly smaller than Dudley’s. As an act of solidarity, Aunt Petunia insisted the rest of the family join Dudley in his new diet. This left Uncle Vernon sputtering but eventually, he caved.

Once he’d got wind of this, Harry sent Hedwig to his friends, begging for help and they had risen to the occasion magnificently. Now with a stack of food that would (hopefully) last the rest of his stay with the Dursleys hidden under his trusty loose floorboard, Harry was in a much better mood than the rest of them.

Uncle Vernon put aside his newspaper and looked down grumpily at his piece of grapefruit.

“Is this it?” he grumbled to Aunt Petunia.

Aunt Petunia gave him a severe look, before gesturing to Dudley who had devoured his grapefruit piece and was eyeing Harry’s hungrily. 

Uncle Vernon let out a great big sigh which ruffled his bushy moustache, before digging in with his spoon.

The doorbell rang. Uncle Vernon heaved himself out of his chair to answer the door and quick as a flash, Dudley ate the remainder of Uncle Vernon’s grapefruit.

Harry heard some talking and laughter at the door before the door slammed shut. Stomping footsteps then followed, and Uncle Vernon cane stomping back, his face beet red.

“You. Living room. Now” Uncle Vernon barked, so furious he could barely get his words out.

Bewildered, Harry got up and followed him, completely unsure what it was he did wrong this time.

“So,” Uncle Vernon said, marching over to the fireplace and turning to face Harry. _“So.”_

Harry was itching to reply with “So what?”, but he didn’t feel that Uncle Vernon’s temper ought to be tested this early in the morning, especially on an empty stomach. He thus just settled for looking politely puzzled.

“This just arrived,” he said, brandishing a purple letter. “A letter. About you.”

Harry’s confusion increased. Who on Earth would be sending him letters? He didn’t know anyone who sent letters by the postman.

Uncle Vernon glared at Harry, then started to read the letter out loud.

 _ Dear Mr and Mrs Dursley,  
_ _  
We have never been introduced, but I am sure you have heard a great deal from Harry about my son Ron.  
_ _As Harry might have told you, the final of the Quidditch World Cup takes place next Monday night, and my husband Arthur, has just managed to get prime tickets through his connections at the Department of Magical Games and Sports.  
_ _I do hope you will allow us to take Harry to the match as this really is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity; Britain hasn’t hosted the cup for thirty years and tickets are extremely hard to come by. We would of course be glad to have Harry to stay for the remainder of the summer holidays, and to see him safely onto the train back to school.  
_ _It would be best for Harry to send his answer as quickly as possible in the normal way, because the muggle postman has never delivered to our house, and I am not sure he even knows where it is.  
_ _Hoping to see Harry soon,_

_Your’s sincerely,_   
_Molly Weasley_   
_P.S. I do hope I’ve put enough stamps on._

“Look at this,” Uncle Vernon thundered, waving about an envelope.

Harry had to fight a laugh. Every inch of the envelope had been covered in stamps except for a little bit in the front where Mrs Weasley had squeezed the Dursleys address.

“The postman laughed. Thought it was funny,” Uncle Dursley growled. One of his greatest fears in life was being seen as “abnormal”.

“So she _did_ put enough stamps on then.”

Uncle Vernon looked like he was about to burst an artery.

“So uh-can I go?” Harry asked.

This caused Uncle Vernon some conflict. On the one hand giving happiness to Harry was something he disliked. On the other hand, being rid of Harry seemed like a joy.

Stalling, he looked down at the letter. “Mrs Weasley? Who is this woman?” he asked, squinting at the envelope.

“She’s my friend Ron’s Mum. You met her while picking me up from the Hog- the school train,” Harry answered, quickly catching himself.

Uncle Vernon screwed up his face as if he’d just sucked on a lemon. “Dumpy sort of woman? Load of children with red hair?” he finally growled. Harry frowned. Bit ironic for Uncle Vernon to be calling anyone “dumpy” considering the fact that Dudley had finally become wider than he was tall. “Had those strange pair of twins with her too. Could tell those two are no good. It’s all in their eyes,” Uncle Vernon sniffed, finally finishing his tirade.

Immediately a swell of defensive rage rose up within him. The Weasley twins, along with the rest of the Weasleys had been with him through a lot. They were more family than the Dursleys were. But, Harry bit his tongue and shut up. That last thing he wanted to do was provoke Uncle Vernon further.

“Quidditch,” Uncle Vernon mumbled under his breath, perusing the letter once more.“ _Quidditch_ -what is this rubbish?”

Harry’s annoyance increased even further. “It’s a sport wizards play on brooms-“

And just like that, Uncle Vernon was set off. He began to shake with anger as if Harry had uttered a foul curse word. He shot a nervy look through the windows, as if he expected to see their neighbours with their ears pressed against the glass. 

“How many times have I told you not to mention that unnaturalness under my roof?” he hissed, his face now a deep shade of plum. “How dare you stand there, in the clothes Petunia and I have put on your ungrateful back-“

“Only after Dudley’s finished with them,” Harry replied coldly. Sure enough the clothes he was wearing were so big they swallowed him up, engulfing his already thin frame.

“You brat. I will not be spoken to like this,” Uncle Vernon growled, positively trembling in his rage.

At that point, Harry had had _enough_. He was done with the Dursleys and stupid diets and stupid rules. He was going to the Quidditch World Cup. And he wasn’t going to let Uncle Vernon stop him. 

Taking a steadying breath, Harry said, “Alright fine. I can’t see the World Cup. Can I go now? I have a letter to Sirius I want to finish. You know-my godfather?”

That seemed to do the trick. Uncle Vernon was rendered silent for a moment his eyes widening.

“Y-you’re writing to him?”

“Oh yes of course! He likes to check up on me. He gets worried when I don’t write to him you know.”

Harry could see the cogs in Uncle Vernon’s head turning, as he calculated the possibility that his nephews serial killer godfather would come and kill them. Harry smiled at him, keeping his face as blank as possible.

“Oh all right then. I’ll let you go to your... ruddy Quibbutch Cup or whatever it’s called. You just.. write to that godfather of yours ok? Tell him you’re going,” Uncle Vernon finally said nervously, his previously plum coloured face now the shade of a piece of paper.

Nodding vigorously, Harry exited the living room, fighting the urge to jump up in the air. He passed by Dudley who had been eavesdropping by the door and grinned at him widely. “Lovely breakfast today,” he chirped before skipping off to his room, ignoring the look of shock on Dudley’s face.

Entering his room, Harry was delighted to see that Hedwig had returned, and with her was an old sickly looking owl that he recognised as Errol. Hedwig looked up at Harry and clicked her beak irritably. The source of annoyance became abundantly clear when a small grey object the size of a tennis ball collided with the side of Harry’s head.

Rubbing his head, Harry realised that the “object” was actually a small grey owl which was now bouncing around his room energetically. He looked down and spotted a letter that had been dropped by the small owl. He immediately recognised Ron’s scribbles and read the letter. As Harry read the letter, the owl apparently named “Pig” rammed itself rather vigorously into the side of Hedwig’s cage, much to Hedwig’s displeasure. Ron’s letter stated that the Weasley’s were picking Harry up on Sunday at five o’clock and they would come no matter what the Dursley’s said. Harry grabbed his quill and quickly scribbled down a reply:

_ Ron, it’s all ok, the muggles say I can come. See you five o’clock tomorrow. Can’t wait. _

_ Harry _

He folded up the letter and attempted to attach it to Pig, who flew over his head.

“Come here I need you to take my answer back!”

Pig finally settled on top of Hedwig’s cage. Hedwig stared coldly at it, as if daring it to come any closer.

Finally tying the note to the small owl’s leg after much difficulty, Harry sent Pig off.

Turning to Errol, who had just been sitting on his desk as if too tired to move, Harry detached the note from its leg. He wondered who it was from as he’d initially assumed Errol would be carrying Ron’s letter.

_Hello Harry, Fred and George here. Ron told us about the rubbish summer you were having so we wanted to make it up to you. On Sunday when we come, look out for a little surprise._

Harry immediately got concerned. Fred and George’s idea of a “surprise” rarely turned out well. Harry was tempted to reply and tell them that it wasn’t necessary, but deep down he was curious what would happen. He was also really touched by them. Fred and George had always stuck by him and were one of the few people who could always cheer him up (even if their methods had varying rates of success). _“Maybe this year I’ll try to be closer friends with them. They seem like fun blokes,”_ Harry thought to himself.

Gently picking up Errol, he tossed him out the window and the owl dropped a few metres before unsteadily picking up height and flying away, it’s path wobbly. Looking at Hedwig, Harry asked her, “Feeling up to a long journey?”

Hedwig hooted in a dignified sort of way.

“Can you take this to Sirius for me?” he asked, picking up the letter. “Hang on... I just want to finish it.”

He unfolded the parchment and hastily added a postscript.

_If you want to contact me, I’ll be at my friend Ron Weasley’s for the rest of the summer. His dad’s got us tickets for the Quidditch World Cup!_

He then tied the letter to Hedwig’s leg who extended her snow white wings majestically before keeping very still as Harry attached the letter to her leg, almost as if she was determined to show him what a proper owl was like.

“I’ll be at Ron’s when you get back ok?”

Hedwig nipped his finger affectionately before soaring out his window.

Pulling a chunk of cake out from under the loose floorboard, Harry sat on the floor, savouring it’s taste. It was a beautiful summers day, he’d soon be leaving to see the Quidditch World Cup, he’d see his friends again, and he couldn’t wait to see what surprise Fred and George had in store for him. He gloated as he thought about Dudley with his grapefruit, and himself with his big delicious slice of chocolate cake.

Life was good. Too good to be worrying about Voldemort or anything of the sort.


	4. An Explosive Entrance

By 12 o’clock the next day, Harry had packed all of his possessions into his trunk. He’d made sure to double check that his most precious belongings were packed, including his father’s invisibility cloak, the marauders map which was gifted to him by Fred and George, and his Firebolt broomstick. He’d stripped his bedroom of all things magical, took down the calendar which he used to strike down the day till September first, and double checked every nook and cranny to ensure that nothing would be left behind.

To say that the atmosphere inside number four Privet Drive was tense, would be an understatement. The imminent arrival of a group of wizards was making the Dursley’s irritable and nervous.

“Hope you told these people to dress properly,” Uncle Vernon sniffed disdainfully, “I’ve seen the type of clothes your sort wears.”

Harry cringed. He’d never seen Mr and Mrs Weasley dressed “properly”. They almost always donned robes in various states of shabbiness, a wardrobe choice Harry doubted Uncle Vernon would approve of. The Weasley children, on the other hand did wear more socially acceptable clothing though Harry doubted this would do anything to sway his Uncle’s views on them.

As the time ticked by, five past five, then fifteen past five, the Weasleys failed to show up. Harry started to pray that they hadn’t forgotten about him. Uncle Vernon straightened his tie haughtily. “Should have known these people would be late. No consideration for others.” Aunt Petunia sniffed scornfully, “No doubt they think they’ll be invited to dinner if they’re late.”

Chuckling, Uncle Vernon said, “Whatever tinpot car they’re driving must have broken down.”

Harry fought the urge to retort that the Ford Anglia that once belonged to Mr Weasley wasn’t a tinpot car at all. In fact it was rather cool and could fly. But, he bit his tongue for fear that anymore mentions of magic would send Uncle Vernon into a murderous rampage. Plus, he was reluctant to bring up how that car was now roaming wild within the forbidden forest as a result of his actions.

“They must have forgotten about you boy. Guess you weren’t important enough to th-AAAAARRRRRRRGHHHHH!!”

Harry leapt to his feet. Loud banging and scraping was coming from behind the Dursley’s boarded up fireplace, which had a fake coal fire plugged in front of it.

“What is it?” Aunt Petunia whimpered, backing away from the fireplace. “What is it Vernon?”

But their questions were immediately answered. A voice started echoing out from inside the fireplace.

“Ouch! Fred, no-go back, go back, there’s been some kind of mistake-tell George not to-OUCH! George, no there’s no room, go back quickly and tell Ron-“

“Maybe Harry can hear us, Dad-maybe he’ll be able to let us out. Harrikins are you there-“

Fists started hammering on the boards behind the electric fire.

“Harry? Harry can you hear us?”

The Dursley’s turned toward Harry, surrounding him like a pack of wolves.

“What is this. What’s going on,” Uncle Vernon snarled.

Harry fought down his mad desire to burst out laughing. “They must’ve decided to use the floo network. They’re travelling by fire but they can’t get out because you’ve blocked the fireplace. Here let me help-“

Harry approached the fireplace and yelled to the Weasleys.

“Mr Weasley? It’s me Harry! The fireplace has been blocked up you can’t get through from here!”

“Blocked up? What on Earth did they block it up for?” Mr Weasley called out.

“They’ve got an electric fire.”

“Ecklectic? How brilliant. Do they use a _plug _?”__

 _ _“__ Harry! Your voice is like an angels call in the darkest of times. To hear you, in my lowest hour is a blessing I cannot-“

“George! Now’s not the time.” Mr Weasley snapped. “I’m not George, I’m Fre-OUCH RON!”

Ron had joined the rest of them.

“Why’re we here? Has something gone wrong?”

“No Ron,” Fred replied sarcastically, “This is _exactly_ where we wanted to end up. Now get off my foot.”

“Yeah this fantastic. Time of our lives,” George chimed in, voice muffled as if he was smushed into a wall.

“Boys... Boys...” Mr Weasley sighed exasperatedly. “Ok... yes... yes I have an idea. Harry stand back.”

Everyone immediately scrambled back, save for Uncle Vernon who stepped forward alarmedly. “Now now, what are you planning to-“

BANG.

The electric fireplace burst outwards, shooting out Mr Weasley, Fred, George, and Ron in a burst of dust and rubble.

The four of them slowly detangled themselves from each other, coughing and rising to their feet, their bright red hair a stark contrast to the grey dust that coated them.

As they stood up, Harry noticed that the Weasley twins had had another growth spurt, and towered over their father, who was desperately trying to clean off his glasses.

The Dursleys gawped at the Weasleys, still in shock over the destruction of their fireplace and living room. Dudley whimpered and clutched at his bottom.

Straightening up, Mr Weasley spotted Uncle Vernon and extended a hand towards him beaming.

“Hello. You must be Harry’s uncle. I’m Arthur Weasley.”

Uncle Vernon stared blankly at Mr Weasley as if he’d just proposed Uncle Vernon should streak through the neighbourhood.

Picking up on the awkwardness, Mr Weasley chuckled uncomfortably and said, “Ah sorry about the uhh... mess,” gesturing to the dust covered living room. “I’ll fix it of course if you just let me-“ Mr Weasley pulled out his wand and Uncle Vernon exploded, “You’ll do nothing of the sort!” his face turning to its famous purple shade.

“Right. I mean if you say so... Boys,” Mr Weasley said turning to the twins, “Get Harry’s trunk will you?”

“On it.” As the twins strode past Harry, Fred winked salaciously at Harry, making him flush. _“What the bloody hell was that?”_ Harry wondered to himself. Shaking himself out of his thoughts, Harry turned to glance at Ron who was glaring at Dudley. Dudley was trying his damndest to conceal himself behind his mother, but to no avail.

“Hello Ron,” Harry chirped, glad to finally see his best friend again.

“Hello Harry! I can’t wait to see the World Cup. My money’s on Bulgaria. They got Krum you know? Best seeker in the world. And he’s only a few years older than us you know?” Ron rambled excitedly.

“I can’t wait,” Harry answered. Harry felt a bit lost. Despite having a great love for Quidditch, being cut off from the Wizarding world meant that he wasn’t up to date on Quidditch news.

“Sorry about your living room again,” Harry overheard Mr Weasley say, “Strictly speaking I’m not really allowed to do this but I have a contact who allowed us to connect your fireplace to the floo network. Only for today of course. Once we leave everything will be set back to norm- Ah there you are boys.” Sure that the Dursley’s hadn’t understood a single word Mr Weasley had said, Harry turned to see the twins reappearing, carrying his trunk down the stairs.

They looked around and spotted Dudley cowering and their faces split with identically evil grins. “Hi Dudley-“ “Have a-“ “Good summer?” Dudley whimpered as he tried to make himself as scarce as possible behind Aunt Petunia, clutching his bottom again.

“Don’t,” Mr Weasley reprimanded them before turning and smiling at Dudley kindly, who looked close to tears.

“Alright then, best we get a move on.” Mr Weasley took out a small bag of floo powder and distributed it to everyone.

“Alright then, Fred you first.”

Fred stepped up to the fireplace but a bag of sweets suddenly tumbled out of his pocket. “Oops,” he mumbled while shoving what looked like toffees back into his pocket. He stepped into the fireplace and shot a cheeky grin at Harry, who felt his stomach flutter, before throwing the floo powder down saying, “The Burrow!” and disappearing in a column of emerald green flames.

Behind Harry, Uncle Vernon made a sound not dissimilar to that of a dying dog.

Next was George with his trunk, who sent a similar cheeky grin Harry’s way, then Ron.

Finally it was Harry’s turn. He stepped into the fireplace and said to the Dursleys, “Well bye I guess.” But as he made to throw the floo powder down, Mr Weasley stopped him.

He looked incredulously at the Dursleys before saying, “He said goodbye. Didn’t you hear? You won’t be seeing Harry for the rest of the summer.” Uncle Vernon sputtered indignantly at the thought of being lectured on manners in his own home, when Dudley let out a loud cry. 

Something that looked like a gigantic pink worm had crawled it’s way into Dudley’s mouth. It took Harry a moment to realise that worm was Dudley’s tongue. Harry clamped his hand to his mouth and it was all he could do to stop himself from breaking out into raucous laughter.

“WHAT DID YOU DO?” Uncle Vernon thundered as Aunt Petunia wailed, clutching onto Dudley who was writhing about on the floor, crushed by the weight of his own tongue.

“I-it’s nothing too serious. Just my boys pulling a prank. I can fix it, it’s simply an engorgement charm,” Mr Weasley reassured distressedly, raising his wand. 

“DON’T YOU DARE,” Uncle Vernon roared.

“Harry go! I’ll deal with this,” Mr Weasley said desperately to Harry.

Harry didn’t want to miss out on the fun but Uncle Vernon had started hurling ornaments at them so Harry threw down the floo powder and yelled, “The Burrow!”

The Dursley’s living room started to spin out of sight as his vision was obscured by bright green flames.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Thanks so much for reading. I was wondering for the future whether or not I should keep this book T or maybe change it to M. What do you think?


	5. Back with Family

As Harry spun faster and faster, he saw different fireplaces zipping past him. He stopped spinning abruptly and fell face down in the Weasleys’ kitchen.

Grabbing his hand and pulling him up, Fred whispered excitedly, “Well? Did he eat it?”

“Yeah,” Harry replied, a grin on his face. “What even was that?”

“Ton-tongue toffees,” George answered, his face an exact mirror of his twin’s. “We invented them. Been waiting for the perfect candidate to test them on,” Fred finished.

“Well Harry? How’d you like your surprise?” the twins asked in unison, looking down hopefully at Harry.

“It was brilliant!” Harry exclaimed. “How’d you even-“ Harry was cut off by loud cheering from other side of the kitchen. “Ah I suppose it’s time for you to meet the rest of the family,” Fred said. “Come on,” George continued as the twins linked their arms with Harry’s and marched him over to the wooden dining table.

Ron was sitting at the table, along with two other red heads who Harry immediately realised must be the two other Weasley children: Bill and Charlie.

The nearer of the two extended his hand. “Hello Harry, I’m Charlie,” he said. Charlie, while shorter than the other Weasleys, Ginny excluded, was definitely the most well built out of all of them. He was muscular and his hand, which Harry shook, was covered in calluses and blisters. A natural effect of training dragons in Romania Harry surmised. His face was broad and good natured, covered in so many freckles that he looked tanned.

Bill got to his feet and shook Harry’s hand as well, smiling. Bill was something of a surprise for Harry. The oldest Weasley child had been described to him as a goody two shoes student, which led Harry to imagine him as looking similar to Percy. He could not have been more wrong. Bill had bright, shoulder length hair which he tied back, a fang earring dangled from his ear, and his boots were made of dragon hide. There was no other way to put it. Bill was _cool_.

Before any further introductions could be made, a popping sound was heard and Mr Weasley appeared behind George. He looked furious.

“That _wasn’t funny_ , Fred!” he shouted. “What on earth did you give that Muggle boy?”

“I didn’t give him anything,” said Fred, an evil grin adorning his face again.” I just _dropped_ it... it was his fault he went and ate it, I never told him to.”

“You dropped it on purpose!” roared Mr Weasley. “You knew he’d eat it, you knew he was on a diet-“

“How big did his tongue get?” George asked eagerly.

“It was four feet long before his parents would let us shrink it!”

Harry and the Weasleys roared with laughter again.

“It _isn’t funny_!” Mr Weasley shouted. “That sort of behaviour seriously undermines wizard-Muggle relations! I spend half my life campaigning against the mistreatment of muggles, and my own sons-“

“We didn’t give it to him because he was a muggle!” said Fred indignantly.

“No we gave it to him because he’s a great bullying twat,” said George. “Isn’t he, Harry?”

“Yeah, he is, Mr Weasley,” Harry replied earnestly, nodding his head vigorously.

“ _Language_ George! And that’s not the point! You wait until I tell your mother-“

“Tell me what?” Mrs Weasley had entered the kitchen. She was a short, kindly woman, though her eyes were now narrowed in suspicion. “Tell me what Arthur?”

Mr Weasley hesitated. Harry could tell that Nr Weasley hadn’t actually intended to tell Mrs Weasley. Of the two, Mr Weasley had always been the more lenient. Harry was brought back to his second year, when Fred, George and Ron had rescued Harry from the Dursleys, stealing their Father’s flying car in the process. Instead of disciplining them, Mr Weasley had excitedly asked them how things went, much to Mrs Weasleys fury.

The silence dragged on as Mr Weasley eyed Mrs Weasley nervously, who was tapping her fingers expectantly. Two girls entered behind Mrs Weasley, their heads peeking over her shoulder. One of them had bushy brown hair and quite large front teeth, while the other one had fiery red hair. They both smiled at Harry, who returned the gesture. The red head Ginny, blushed so hard that the roots of her red hair blended in with her face. She’d been quite taken with Harry since his first visit to The Burrow. The other girl, Hermione his other best friend, looked at him questioningly. Harry shrugged his shoulders unhelpfully.

“Tell me _what_ Arthur?” Mrs Weasley repeated, her impatience clearly rising.

“It’s nothing Molly,” Mr Weasley muttered. “It’s just a thing Fred and George did, you know how they are... No need to worry I’ve already had words with them-“

“What have they done _this_ time?” Mrs Weasley sighed. “If this has anything to do with _Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes_ I swear-“

“Say Ron, why don’t you show Harry where he’s sleeping?” Hermione said pointedly from the doorway.

“He knows where’s he’s sleeping. He’s stayed in my room before-“

“We can all go,” Hermione said, her voice sharp.

“Oh,” said Ron, cottoning on. “Right.”

“Yeah we’ll come too-“

 _”You stay where you are!”_ snarled Mrs Weasley.

Harry shot an apologetic look at the twins as he and Ron edged out of the kitchen, following Hermione and Ginny as they made their way up the rickety staircases that zig-zagged through the house to the upper stories.

“So... What exactly is _Weasleys’ Wizarding Wheezes_?” Harry asked as they climbed.

Ron and Ginny laughed while Hermione remained mum.

“Mum found this order list while cleaning out their room. They were price lists for items they invented for their shop,” Ron answered. “Their stuff is quite brilliant actually, never knew they could invent stuff like that.”

“We’ve been hearing explosions and the like from their room but we didn’t think that was anything out of the ordinary. We just assumed they liked the noise,” Ginny chimed in.

“Or course Mum would have been upset at them anyway. Their O.W.L.S. came back and they didn’t quite get as many as they hoped,” Ron said. “Thinks they’re wasting their life. So she burnt all their order forms and they had a whole big row about it.”

“Yeah Mum wants them to go to work at the Ministry of Magic but they told her all they want to do is open a joke shop,” Ginny continued.

“Honestly I agree with your mother Ron. I doubt being a professional jokester is a sustainable career,” Hermione said curtly.

Just then a door opened and out poked a rather annoyed face, adorned with a pair of horn rimmed glasses.

“Hi Percy.”

“Oh hi Harry. I was just wondering what all the ruckus was. I have a very important report due and-“

“Ok Percy we get it. We’ll leave you to your work,” Ron groaned.

“What’re you working on?” Harry asked curiously. He wasn’t quite sure about what jobs and tasks would be present within the Wizarding community.

“A report for the Department of International Magical Co-operation,” Percy replied smugly. We’re trying to standardised cauldron thickness. Some of these foreign imports are just a shade too thin - leakages have been increasing at a rate of almost three per cent a year-“

“That’ll change the world that report will,” Ron said sarcastically. “I think you’re guaranteed front page on the _Daily Prophet_.

“Go ahead, scoff,” Percy said heatedly, his face turning pink. “But without an international law imposed, we’ll be surrounded by flimsy thin-bottomed cauldrons which could seriously endanger-“

“Alright alright. Sorry we ever bothered you,” Ron snapped. Harry gave Percy an awkward wave goodbye before Percy slammed the door shut.

The four of them continued all the way up to Ron’s bedroom, all of them resolutely ignoring the shouting from the kitchen.

Ron’s room looked almost exactly the same as it had the last time Harry was here. Posters of Ron’s favourite Quidditch team, the Chudley Canons, adorned the walls, the players zipping around. Ron’s old rat Scabbers was gone (good riddance). In Scabbers’ place was the tiny grey owl that had delivered Ron’s letter. It was hopping up and down in its cage, twittering madly.

“Shut _up_ pig,” Ron hissed, squeezing between the four beds that had been crammed into the room. “Right so Fred and George are staying with us. Bill and Charlie are sharing. Percy gets to have his own room because he has to _work_.” Harry felt a stab of delight at the idea of sharing a room with Fred and George. He quickly shoved down this feeling by changing the subject.

“Say Ron, why on earth are you calling that owl _pig_?”

“Because he’s being stupid,” Ginny piped up, lounging on a bed.

“ _Because_ Ginny named him Pigwidgeon. Which is stupid. I tried to rename him but now it’s all he answers to. So pig he is,” Ron replied miserably.

Hermione who had been silent for a while chimed in, saying, “Well I think it’s a sweet name.” Ginny grunted in agreement.

“So have you got letters from-“ Ron cut himself off abruptly. Hermione, Ron and Harry glanced between each other nervously. They were a few of the only people who knew how Sirius Black’s escape had transpired, and Ginny was not one of them. Ginny stared curiously at them.

“Well do you want to go downstairs and help your Mum?” Hermione asked in an attempt to mask the awkward moment.

“Sure why not. I think she’s about done shouting,” Ron replied.

Making their way all the way down to the kitchen, they encountered a very bad tempered Mrs Weasley who was spinning around the kitchen ranting quietly to herself.

“We’re eating outside. Bill and Charlie are setting up the tables. Girls could you bring the plates out. You two, knives and forks,” she said gesturing at Ron and Harry. Hermione and Ginny immediately scampered outside, carrying the plates. Ron and Harry lingered for a bit, watching as Mrs Weasley stomped around the kitchen, making sauces and soups and roasting chicken, all the while ranting loudly. She grabbed her wand to finish off the chicken, but her “wand” turned into a rubber chicken. As she exclaimed loudly, Ron turned to Harry and whispered, “Let’s get out of here while we can mate.” And so the two of them escaped out into the yard.

Rowdy laughter greeted them. Ginny was giggling as Bill and Charlie, both brandishing their wands, magicked two long wooden tables to crash into one another. Fred and George were whooping loudly on the sidelines while Hermione stood by, conflicted between anxiety and amusement.

A familiar orange cat brushed last Harry’s leg as it chased a gnome. Crookshanks tried its best to get the gnome, which had dived into a boot, Crookshanks bottle brush tail waving in frustration.

BANG.

Harry jumped. Bill’s table had knocked Charlie’s table’s leg off, the broken limb hanging on by a few measly splinters.

There was a clattering sound upstairs and Harry craned his neck up to see Percy sticking his head out the window. “Can you keep it down,” Percy snapped.

“Hi Perce. How’s the work going,” Bill asked.

“Very badly,” Percy replied peevishly before slamming the window shut.

They all snickered. Bill repaired Charlie’s table’s leg, magicked up some table cloths and they all helped to set up the table.

Harry made to sit beside Ron but was yanked over by Fred and George. “Oy! He’s my mate not yours!” shouted Ron. Fred merely stuck his tongue out at him and settled down beside Harry, with George on Harry’s other side.

“So Harrikins, how have you been?” Fred asked as George slapped a generous amount of mashed potatoes onto Harry’s plate. “Better now that I’m away from the Dursleys,” Harry grinned. “And what about you? What’s with all this Weasley’s Wheezes nonsense and why am I the last to hear about it?” Harry questioned, raising his eyebrows. Fred and George had the gall to look bashful.

“Well we never really intended on anyone finding out-“

“Not yet at least.”

Harry chuckled, “I’m just taking the mick. I’m really excited for both of you. You have to show me some of your other stuff sometime.” Harry’s stomach got fluttery as he saw Fred and George’s faces light up at his words.

As the dinner carried on, Harry overheard Percy telling Mr Weasley about a “Mr Crouch” and a “Ludo Bagman” and a “Bertha Jorkins”. Harry was so full that his head was starting to get fuzzy and he was ready to sleep right then and there. His ears perked up however, when Percy conspiratorially referenced a “big event” to Mr Weasley.

He leaned over Fred to look at Ron questioningly. Ron rolled his eyes and muttered, “He’s been trying to get us to ask what that event is ever since he started work. Probably an exhibition of thick-bottomed cauldrons.”

His interest now lost again, Harry listened in to the other conversations happening at the table. Mrs Weasley was arguing with Bill about his hair and his earring, and Fred, George and Charlie were all discussing the World Cup excitedly.

As the night went on, Mr Weasley lit up candles to light up the darkening garden as they feasted on pudding. Harry was feeling very content indeed, his belly full, and surrounded by friends.

Ron, who had switched places with the twins earlier in the evening, checked to see if anyone was listening in, before whispering quietly, “So- _have_ you heard from Sirius lately?” 

Hermione leaned in, listening closely.

“Yeah,” Harry replied softly. “Twice. He sounds ok. I wrote to him the day before yesterday. He might write back while I’m here.”

Recalling the reason why he’d written to Sirius in the first place, Harry was tempted to tell Ron and Hermione about his dream, and his scar hurting. Along with that, came his temptation to ask Ron and Hermione if they’d started to feel all weird and giggly around their best mates older brothers, though that was not quite as pressing. But, Harry was reluctant to shatter the peaceful happy atmosphere of the night. He also felt ashamed. That word Jason introduced to him that morning still bouncing around in his head, along with Uncle Vernon’s much nastier ones.

Luckily Harry was saved from going down a dark spiral.

“Look at the time,” Mrs Weasley said suddenly, checking her wrist watch. “You really should be in bed the whole lot of you, you’ll be up at the crack of dawn to get to the Cup. Harry, if you leave your school list out, I’ll get your things for you tomorrow in Diagon Alley. I’m getting everyone else’s. There might not be enough time after the World Cup, the match went on for five days last time.”

“Wow-I hope it does this time!” Harry said enthusiastically.

“Well I certainly don’t,” Percy sniffed, “I _shudder_ to think of the state of my in-tray if I was gone for five days.”

“Yeah, someone might slip dragon dung in it again, eh Perce?” said Fred.

“That was a sample of fertiliser from Norway!” Percy yelled, going very red in the face. “It was nothing _personal_!”

“It was,” Fred whispered to Harry as they got up from the table. “We sent it.”


	6. Cedric Diggory

The process of going to sleep was a bit hard for Harry. Despite being very tired earlier, Harry felt wide awake. He could hear Fred and George’s light breathing, intercut with Ron’s snoring. 

It felt strange for him to be so aware of other human beings presence. Harry was quite largely an unobservant boy. And so Harry struggled to fall asleep, thinking very hard about the two people sleeping on the opposite side of the room from him. Thinking about their smiles, their laughs, their jokes, their freckles. 

When he wasn’t thinking about Fred and George, he was wondering what on _earth_ was wrong with him. Sleeping that night was a real chore. 

That’s why it was so disappointing when it felt like the second he had fallen asleep, he was being rudely shaken awake by Hermione.

“Harry. Harry wake up!” she said, jostling him. Harry blinked up blearily at Hermione, who had already gotten dressed. He scrubbed the sleep out of his eyes as she walked to the bed beside his and gave Ron the same treatment. 

“ _Bloody hell_ Hermione!” Ron shouted, scandalised, pulling his blanket up to cover his chest. Hermione rolled her eyes, saying, “Ron don’t be such a prude. You’re wearing a singlet.” Ron groaned and sank back down, using his blanket to cover his head. 

“Come on!” Hermione scolded, ripping the blanket off him, “Your mother has breakfast ready!”

“S’time already?” Fred asked groggily, emerging from a tangle of blankets at the foot of Harry’s bed. George rose as well, looking similarly disheveled, muttering under his breath.

Harry tried his best not to gawk at Fred and George as they changed, and ignored how nice they looked with their hair all messy. He made it a point not to make eye contact with them as they all made their way to kitchen, for fear that he’d end up turning bright red from embarrassment. 

Luckily, the sleepiness that infected all of them allowed him to disguise his odd behaviour as tiredness, though Harry thought he saw Fred glance at him oddly from the corner of his eye.

Mrs Weasley was in the kitchen, stirring the contents of a large pot on the stove. Mr Weasley sitting at the table, ruffling though a stack of large parchment tickets. As the boys came in, Mr Weasley stood up and spun around. 

“What do you think?” he asked anxiously. “We’re supposed to blend in with muggles. Harry what do you think?” Mr Weasley was wearing like what looked like a neon green oversized golfing jumper and a baggy pair of dark orange jeans, held up by a thick belt. 

“Yeah. That’s... good,” Harry cringed, giving an awkward thumbs up.

Mr Weasley grinned proudly, before going back to ruffling through the tickets. 

“Where’re Bill, Charlie, and Per-Per-Percy?” George asked, failing to stifle a huge yawn. 

“Well they’re Apparating,” Mrs Weasley replied, heaving the pot over to the table and ladling porridge into bowls. “So they’re having a bit of a lie-in.”

“So they’re still in bed?” said Fred grumpily, pulling his bowl of porridge towards him. “Why can’t we Apparate, too?”

“Because you’re not of age and you haven’t got your test,” snapped Mrs Weasley. “And where have those girls got to?”

She bustled out of the kitchen and went upstairs, the stairs creaking as she climbed.

“So... you have to pass a test to Apparate?” Harry asked.

“Oh yes,” Mr Weasley replied sternly. “It’s a dangerous thing, Apparating. Just last week the Department of Magical Transportation had to fine a couple of people for Apparating with out a license. They’d gone ahead and splinched themselves.”

Everyone at the table except Harry winced.

“Err... _splinched_?”

“Oh yes,” Mr Weasley said gravely. “ _Splinched_ ”

“Yes but what is it,” Harry said impatiently.

“It’s when you Apparate wrongly. You end up... leaving _bits_ of yourself-“ Mr Weasley broke off as a shudder ran through his body. “I’m sure you can imagine.”

Harry was struck with a grotesque image of a pair of legs and an eyeball lying abandoned on the pavement of Privet Drive.

“So Charlie, Bill, and Percy can Apparate?”

“Charlie had to take the test twice,” Fred said grinning. “Appeared about five miles from where he supposed to. Landed on some poor old dear who was doing her shopping.”

“Well he passed the second time,” Mrs Weasley interjected, marching back into the kitchen amid hearty sniggers.

“Percy passed two weeks ago,” George added, “He’s been Apparating into the kitchen every morning just to rub it in.”

There were footsteps down the passageway and Hermione entered the kitchen, Ginny trailing behind her looking pale and drowsy.

“Why do we have to be up so early?” Ginny questioned, rubbing at her eyes forcefully.

“We’ve got a bit of a walk.”

“What? We’re walking to the Cup?” Harry asked alarmedly.

“No no. We only need to walk a short way. Events like this are hard for wizards because we need a way to travel without drawing attention from Muggles so we-“

“George!” Mrs Weasley snapped, making them all jump.

“What?” George mumbled innocently, his mouth stuffed with porridge.

“Empty your pockets.”

“Why? There’s nothing ther-“

“Don’t you lie to me!”

Mrs Weasley brandished her wand and jabbed it at George’s pocket, saying, _”Accio!”_

Several small, brightly coloured objects whizzed out of George’s pocket. Harry scrambled to catch them, but missed and they all zoomed into Mrs Weasley’s outstretched hand.

“We told you to destroy these!” Mrs Weasley roared.

Harry instantly recognised the objects as more Ton-tongue toffees which Fred and George had, evidently, attempted to smuggle out of the house. 

“Empty your pockets the both of you!”

The scene had turned very unpleasant very quickly. 

Fred and George refused to listen to Mrs Weasley, and she’d retaliated by using more Summoning Charms to locate them all. 

_”Accio! Accio! Accio!”_ Toffees zoomed from all sorts of unlikely places, including the lining of George’s jacket and the turn-ups of Fred’s jeans.

“We spent six months developing those!” Fred shouted at his mother, as she threw the toffees away.

“Oh, a fine way to spend six months!” she shrieked. “No wonder you didn’t get more O.W.L.s!”

Fred and George eventually fell into a sullen silence. Harry felt quite sorry as he stared at their glum faces, and tried to convey that by shooting a sympathetic glance at them, which neither of them noticed.

Finally, it was time for them to make their departure. Mrs Weasley was still glowering as she kissed Mr Weasley on the cheek, though not nearly as much as Fred and George, who hoisted their rucksacks onto their backs and walked out without saying goodbye to her.

“Have a lovely time. _And stay out of trouble!_ ” she called out after them. Fred and George resolutely ignored her.

The weather was chilly and the moon was still out. The wind whipped Harry’s hair into his eyes as he sped up to talk to Mr Weasley. 

“So how _does_ everyone get there without the Muggles noticing?”

“Ah it’s been a _huge_ organisational problem,” Mr Weasley sighed. “The trouble is that about a hundred thousand wizards turn up to the World Cup, and of course we just haven’t got a magical site big enough to accommodate them all. There are places Muggles can’t penetrate, but imagine trying to pack a hundred thousand wizards into Diagon Alley or platform nine and three-quarters. So we had to find a nice deserted moor and set up as many anti-Muggle precautions as possible. The whole Ministry’s been working on it for months. Some wizards Apparate of course, but those who can’t or don’t want to, like us, use Portkeys. They’re objects that are used to transport wizards from one spot to another at a prearranged time. There have been two hundred Portkeys scattered all through Britain. The nearest one to us is up the top of Stoatshead Hill, where we’re headed now.”

“What sort of objects are Portkeys?”

“Oh they can be anything, but they’re usually unassuming objects... so the Muggles don’t go picking them up. They’ll just think it’s litter.”

Mr Weasley and Harry’s conversation trailed off as the group began to trek up the steep hill.

They huffed, and puffed, and occasionally slipped as they made their way up the steep hill.

Finally, as Harry’s every breath felt sharp in his chest and his legs felt like jelly, he reached the top of the hill.

“Whew!” Mr Weasley huffed, wiping his forehead with his sleeve, “Well, we’ve made good time-we’ve got ten minutes...”

Hermione came over the crest of the hill last, wheezing as she clutched a stitch in her side.

“Right now we just need the Portkey...”

“Over here Arthur! We’ve got it!”

Two figures were silhouetted against the starry sky on the other side of the hilltop.

“Amos!” Mr Weasley said warmly as he strode over to shake the hand of the man who shouted.

The man was a ruddy-faced, short wizard with a paddy cap perched crookedly atop his head. In his hand was a manky old boot. 

“This is Amos Diggory, everyone,” Mr Weasley said. “Works for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.”

Everyone smiled and waved at him.

“And this strapping young lad must be Cedric?” Mr Weasley continued.

Cedric grinned and shook Mr Weasleys hand. Cedric Diggory was an _extremely_ handsome boy of around seventeen. With his dark blonde hair, bright blue eyes, and chiseled jaw, Harry surmised that he wouldn’t look out of place on the cover of a Muggle magazine. The boy was also the captain and seeker of the Hufflepuff house Quidditch team at Hogwarts.

“Hi,” Cedric said, looking at them all. Ginny and Hermione exchanged a glance with each other and wiggled their eyebrows at each other.

Everyone responded with a “Hi”, except Fred, George, and Ron who nodded stiffly. They’d never quite forgiven Cedric for beating Gryffindor in the first Quidditch match of the previous year.

“Long walk Arthur?”

“Not too bad. We live on the other side of the village there. You?”

“Had to get up at two, didn’t we, Ced? I tell you, I’ll be glad when he’s got his Apparition test. Still... not complaining... Quidditch World Cup, wouldn’t miss it for a sackful of Galleons-and the tickets cost about that. Mind you, looks like I got off easy...” Amos Diggory peered good-naturedly behind Mr Weasley to stare at the teenagers behind him. “ _All_ these yours, Arthur?”

“Oh no only the redheads. These are friends of Ron’s, Hermione and Harry-“

“Merlin’s beard,” Amos Diggory exclaimed, his eyes as wide a saucers. “Harry? Harry _Potter_? 

“Er-yeah,” said Harry.

It was natural for people’s eyes to rove immediately to the scar on Harry’s forehead, but no matter how many times it happened, it still made Harry uncomfortable.

“Ced’s talked about you, of course,” Amos Diggory said, nudging at Cedric. “Told us all about playing against you last year... I said to him, I said-Ced, that’ll be something to tell your grandchildren, that will... _you beat Harry Potter!_!”

Harry couldn’t think of any reply to this so he remained silent. His loss, while not Cedric’s doing in any way, still stung. It had been the first game of Quidditch he’d lost. And to lose so spectacularly was humiliating. He braced himself for whatever embarrassing story Cedric had told his father. 

Fred and George were scowling beside him, and Cedric stared at the ground embarrassedly. 

“Harry fell off his broom, Dad,” he muttered. “I told you... it was an accident...” 

“Yes but _you_ didn’t fall off, did you?” roared Amos, genially slapping his son on the back. “Always modest, our Ced, always the gentleman... but the best man won, I’m sure Harry’s say the same, wouldn’t you, eh? One falls off his broom, one stays on, you don’t need to be a genius to tell which one’s the better flier!”

Cedric met Harry’s eye and smiled apologetically at him, his cheeks pink with embarrassment. And so Harry found himself a little less able to hate the boy.

“Must be nearly time,” said Me Weasley, staring at his watch, “Do you know whether we’re waiting for any more, Amos?”

“No, the Lovegoods have been there for a week already and the Fawcetts couldn’t get tickets.”

At the mention of the Lovegoods, Ginny’s face turned bright red, and she turned to conceal her face in her elbow, feigning a sneeze. Harry stared curiously at her strange behaviour.

“Alright, it’s a minute off... we’d better get ready...”

Mr Weasley glanced and Harry and Hermione. “You just need to touch the Portkey, that’s all, a finger will do-“

With great difficulty, all nine of them crammed themselves around the old boot held out by Amos Diggory.

They all stood there in a tight circle, a strange sight if anyone were to stumble upon them.

“Three...” Mr Weasley whispered to himself, “two... one...”

Like being jerked back by a string attached to his navel, Harry was pulled off the ground. With Ron and Hermione on either side of him, their shoulders knocking into his, they all sped forward in a howl of wind and a melting blend of colour. His finger was stuck to the boot as if some sort of magnetic attraction was binding them. He spun and spun and spun and then-

His feet slammed into the ground; Ron staggered into him and he fell over; the Portkey hit the ground near his head with a heavy thud.

Harry looked up. Everyone, save for Amos Diggory, Cedric, and Mr Weasley, was sprawled on the ground groaning. 

“Seven past five from Stoatsheads Hill.”


	7. Setting Up and Seeing Old Faces

Cedric extended a hand towards Harry, who took it gratefully, rising to his feet and brushing himself off. They had arrived at a misty moor which was completely deserted, except for a pair of tired and grumpy-looking wizards who stood in front of them. Both had clearly attempted to disguise themselves as Muggles, though they had the same amount of successfulness as Mr Weasley. (One of the wizards was wearing a kilt and a poncho.)

“Morning, Basil,” said Mr Weasley, picking up the boot and handing it to the kilted wizard, who threw it into a large box filled with used Portkeys beside him; an old newspaper, an empty drinks can, and a punctured football was also in the box.

“Hello there Arthur,” Basil said wearily. “Been here all night... You should get out of the way... Got a big group coming in soon. Hang on let me find your campsite...” He muttered to himself as he consulted his parchment. “Weasley... About a quarter of a mile walk over there, first field you come to. Site manager is Mr Roberts. Diggory... second field, ask for Mr Payne.

“Thanks Basil,” Me Weasley said, beckoning everyone to follow him.

They set off across the moor, the thick mist concealing almost everything from view. After about twenty minutes, a small stone cottage next to a gate emerged from the mist. From behind it, Harry could roughly make out the silhouettes of hundreds and hundreds of tents, rising up the gentle slope of a large field towards a dark wood on the horizon.

They then bid the Diggorys goodbye. Cedric smiled warmly at Harry and waved goodbye to him. Harry returned the gesture, his stomach doing a flip.

A man was standing in the doorway, staring out at the tents. Harry instantly knew he was the only real Muggle for miles. Hearing them approaching, the man turned to look at them.

“Morning!”

“Morning.”

“Would you be Mr Roberts?”

“Aye, I would. And who’re you?” Mr Roberts questioned.

“Weasley. We booked two tents a couple of days ago?”

“Aye, got you here,” Mr Roberts said, consulting a list tacked to the door. “You’ve got the space up there near the woods. Just the one night?”

“Sounds right.”

“You’ll be paying now, then?”

“Ah-right-certainly.” Mr Weasley spun around towards Harry, pulling out a wad of Muggles notes. “Help me Harry! This ones... Ah! I can see the number so this a.. five?”

“A twenty,” Harry corrected, very aware of Mr Roberts who was peering over to stare at them.

“You foreign?” Mr Roberts asked as Mr Weasley handed him the money.”

“Foreign?” Mr Weasley replied, puzzled.

“Been a lot of you folks around. Don’t know about the money,” Mr Roberts said, scrutinising them. “Two fellas just tried to pay me in gold coins the size of hubcaps.”

“Did you really?” Mr Weasley replied nervously, “How curious.”

“It’s never been this crowded,” Mr Roberts said suddenly, looking at the field behind him. “We’ve had hundreds of pre-bookings. That never happens.”

“Is that right?” Mr Weasley said, holding his hand out for his change, but Mr Roberts continued to stare at the expanse of tents in the distance.

“Aye. People from all over. Not just that but weirdos too,” Mr Roberts said thoughtfully. “I just saw a fella wearing a _kilt and a poncho_. It’s almost... like a sort of rally... I dunno. Everyone just seems to know each other-“

At that instance, a wizard appeared out of thin air and pointed his wand at Mr Roberts head. _Obliviate!_ he said sharply.

Mr Roberts eyes immediately glazed over, his eyebrows unknitted, and a look of dreamy unconcern washed over him.

“A map of the campsite for you,” Mr Roberts said placidly, “And your change.”

“Thank you,” Mr Weasley said.

The wizard accompanied them towards the gate. He looked dead tired, his chin blue with stubble and his under eyes purple with shadows. Once they’d left Mr Roberts behind, the wizard whispered to Mr Weasley, “A lot of trouble that one. Needs about ten memory charms a day to keep him happy. And Ludo Bagman’s certainly not helping, trotting around talking about bludgers at the top of his voice. Blimey, I sure will be glad when this is over. See you later Arthur.”

He Disapparated.

“Isn’t Ludo Bagman Head of Magical Game and Sports?” Ginny asked surprisedly, “Shouldn’t he know better?”

“He should. But then again Ludo’s been a bit... _lax_ about security,” Mr Weasley said as he lead them through the gate. “But really you could wish for a more enthusiastic Head. He played Quidditch for England himself. The best beater the Wimbourne Wasps ever had.”

As they trudged up the field, Harry couldn’t help but notice the vastly different tents. Some were quite ordinary looking, save for a weather vane or chimney. The owners had clearly tried to look as Muggle as possible. However there were also tents that were so extravagant it was obvious they were magical. Halfway up the field was a tent made of sleek silk, shaped like a miniature palace, with live peacocks tethered in front of it. Further up was a three levelled tent with turrets and a front garden.

“Always the same,” Mr Weasley said, smiling, “Can’t resist showing off when we get together. Ah this is us.”

They’d arrived at the very edge of the woods, a small sign hammered into the ground that read “Weezly”.

“No magic allowed. Not when there are so many of us in one spot,” Mr Weasley heaved, hoisting his backpack off his shoulders, “We’ll have to pitch the tents by hand. Harry do you think this is a good spot?”

Harry had absolutely no idea how to pitch a tent.

He’d never been camping before. The Dursley’s always just left him with old Mrs Figg whenever they went anywhere. But through teamwork, him and Hermione managed to figure it out and they finally managed to erect two very shabby tents.

While the tents looked quite good, the problem was that there was no way they would fit a party of ten. Hermione seemed to have spotted the same problem as she looked at Harry quizzically as Mr Weasley dropped down and crawled into the first tent.

“Bit of a squeeze but I think we’ll be able to manage. Come an have a look.”

Harry bent down and ducked under the tents flap. His jaw dropped.

Inside the tent was what looked like a fully furnished three bedroom flat, complete with bathroom and kitchen.

“I love magic,” Harry said breathlessly as he gawped at the inside of the tent.

Mr Weasley picked up a dusty kettle and peered inside it. “Right we’ll need water.”

“There’s a tap on the map the Muggle gave us,” Ron said as he walked over to stand beside Harry, rather unimpressed by the tents inner proportions.

“Well why don’t you three go get some water then-” Mr Weasley handed the kettle, along with a few saucepans over to Hermione, Ron and Harry.”-the rest of us will get some wood for a fire.”

“But we’ve got an oven why can’t we-“

“Ron, this is what the Muggles do!” Mr Weasley exclaimed, his face shining with anticipation. “When Muggles camp, they cook on fires outdoor, I’ve seen them at it!”

After a quick tour of the girls tent, Harry, Ron and Hermione set off.

As the walked, Harry noticed a lot of different looking witches and wizards. There were some really young wizards, playing with their parent’s wands before their parents scolded them, and there were some wizards and witches from other countries who conversed in foreign languages, with their countries’ banners hanging over their tents.

“Er-is it my eyes, or has everything gone green?” Ron asked.

It wasn’t just Ron’s eyes. They had walked into a patch of tents that were all covered with a thick growth of shamrocks. 

“Harry! Ron! Hermione!”

It was Seamus Finnigan. He was sitting in front of his own shamrock-covered tent with a sandy haired woman who had to be his mother, and Dean Thomas who grinned up at them.

“Like the decorations?” Seamus chuckled as they went up to him. “Ministry’s not too happy.”

“Aye, why shouldn’t we show our pride,” Seamus’ mother said. “You should see what Bulgaria has dangling over _their_ tents. You’ll be supporting Ireland of course?”

After reassuring her of their loyalty, they bid Dean and Seamus goodbye before setting off again. “Like we’d say anything else surrounded by that lot,” Ron said.

“Wanna see what Bulgaria has hanging over their tents?” Harry asked, pointing to a large patch of tents upfield, where the Bulgari flag, red, green and white, was glittering in the breeze.

The tents had not been bedecked with plant life, but each and every one of them had the same poster attached to it, a poster of a very surly face. The picture was moving but all it did was blink and scowl. Harry thought he looked very miserable.

“Krum,” Ron gasped quietly.

“What.”

“Krum!” Ron exclaimed. “Viktor Krum, the Bulgarian Seeker!”

“He looks really grumpy,” Hermione said, surveying the many different Krums blinking and scowling at them.

“ _Really grumpy?_ ” Ron raised his eyes his eyes to the heavens. “Who cares what he looks like? He’s absolutely unbelievable. Only just eighteen or something. He’s a _genius_ , you wait until tonight, you’ll see.”

There was already a small queue for the two in the corner of the field. Harry, Ron and Hermione joined it, right behind a pair of wizards who were having a heated argument. One of them was an old wizard wearing a Long flowery night-gown. The other, a ministry wizard, was holding out a pair of pinstriped trousers. He sounded close to tears. “Please just wear these trousers.”

“No I bought this in a shop. Muggles wear this.”

“Archie, Muggle _women_ wear it.”

“I don’t care. I’m not wearing it. I like a nice breeze around my privates.”

The trio sniggered loudly to themselves and Hermione was overwhelmed with such a strong fit of giggles that she had to duck out of the queue and only returned once Archie had left.

Walking slowly now thanks to the water sloshing around in their saucepans and kettle, the trio made their way back to the tents. On the way they met Oliver Wood. Oliver Wood, Gryffindor’s old keeper, captain, and source of confusing emotions for Harry.

“Harry! Blimey it’s good to see you again!” Oliver exclaimed, tugging him into a hug, thumping on Harry’s back good-naturedly. “Good to see you too Oliver,” Harry wheezed. As they stepped away from each other, Harry noticed how Oliver had filled out even more since they’d last seen each other. “Exciting news Harry! I’ve been signed to the Puddlemere United reserve team.” “That’s wonderful Oliver!” Harry said honestly. Oliver was one of the biggest Quidditch buffs he’d ever met and it was hard to imagine him doing anything but playing Quidditch. “Oh come! I must introduce you to my Ma and Pa!” And Oliver dragged Harry over to his tent to meet his parents. They eventually bid each other farewell, much to Harry’s reluctance. It would be strange going back for practice at Hogwarts and not seeing Oliver.

As they carried on, they saw Cho Chang, a very pretty girl who played Seeker for Ravenclaw’s team. She smiled and waved at Harry, who slopped water all over his front in his eagerness to wave back. 

As Harry turned away from Cho, he began pondering again. 

He’d felt all funny around Cho because he’d thought she was pretty. He _liked_ her. So... he felt funny around Oliver because he _liked_ him? Could Harry actually be like Jason? But that really couldn’t be. He liked both Cho _and_ Oliver. You either liked men or women. Was it possible to like both?

Harry was pulled out of his thoughts by Ernie Macmillan greeting them, a Hufflepuff at Hogwarts.

“You’ve been ages,” George said when they finally got back to the Weasleys’ tent.

“Met a few people,” said Ron, setting the water down. “You not got that fire started yet?”

“Dad’s having fun with the matches,” said Fred.

Mr Weasley had failed to ignite a fire. But it wasn’t for a lack of trying. Splintered matches were scattered all around the ground but Nr Weasley looked as if he was having the time of his life.

“Oops!” he said, as he managed to light a match, and promptly dropped it in surprise.

“Come here, Mr Weasley,” Hermione said kindly, showing him how to do it.

As they waited for the fire to get hot enough to cook, Mr Weasley introduced Harry to scream Ministry members. “Cuthbert Mockridge... Arnold Peasegood, an Obliviator... Bode and Croaker... they’re Unspeakables...”

“They’re what?”

“From the Department of Mysteries, top-secret, no idea what they get up to...”

At last, the fire was ready and they had just started cooking eggs and sausages when Bill, Charlie, and Percy came strolling out of the woods towards them. 

“Just Apparated!” Percy announced. “Oh are those sausages? Perfect!”

They were halfway through their meal when Mr Weasley jumped to his feet, waving and grinning at a man who was striding towards them. “The man of the moment! Ludo!”

Ludo Bagman was the most noticeable person Harry had seen so far, including Archie in his long nightgown. He was donning Quidditch robes with bright yellow and black stripes. There was an emblem of a wasp on the front of his robes, stretched tightly over his large belly. His nose was squashed (probably from being hit with a bludger so many times), but his round blue eyes, blonde hair, and rosy complexion made him look like an overgrown school boy.

“Ahoy there!” Bagman called happily, bouncing towards them.

Percy hurried forward and extended his hand. Apparently his disapproval of Bagman didn’t prevent him from wanting to make a good impression on him.

“Ah yes, this is Percy my son,” Mr Weasley said grinning, “he’s just started at the Ministry. That’s my son Fre-no George... _That’s_ Fred... Bill, Charlie, Ron, Ginny- and Ron’s friends, Hermione Granger and Harry Potter.”

Bagman did a small double take and his eyes performed the familiar flick up to Harry’s forehead.

“This here is Ludo Bagman. I’m sure you all know him. It’s thanks to him we have such good tickets.”

Bagman waved away the thanks with a nonchalant grin.

“Fancy a flutter on the match?” Bagman asked, jingling his pockets which sounded like they were filled with coins.

“Oh alright then,” Mr Weasley said. “Let’s see... a galleon on Ireland to win?”

“Oh.. that’s it?” Bagman looked disappointed but he gathered himself, “Very well very well... any other takers?”

“We’ll bet thirty-seven Galleons, fifteen Sickles, three Knuts,” said Fred, as he and George, quickly looked all their money, “that Ireland win-but Viktor Krum gets the Snitch. Oh, and we’ll throw in a fake wand.”

“I’m sure that Mr Bagman is not interested in whatever nonsense you’re peddling,” Percy hissed, but Bagman burst out in laughter as the fake wand he grabbed gave a loud squawk and turned into a rubber chicken.

“This is fantastic! I’ve never seen one this realistic! I’ll take it!”

Percy was stunned into silence, mouth agape. 

“Boys...” Mr Weasley whispered to them, “I don’t think you should... that’s all your savings... Your mother-“

“Now don’t be a spoilsport Arthur!” Bagman chirped, his face split into a jovial grin, “They’re young men already. Know what they want don’t you.”

He pulled out a quill, quietly muttering under his breath as he jotted their names down. Mr Weasley stared on helplessly.

“Thank you,” George said, tucking the slip of parchment Bagman gave him carefully into his pocket.

“Pleasure doubt business with you lads. Say, Arthur have you seen Barty Crouch around? My Bulgarian opposite number’s making things difficult for me. He keeps making requests, but for the life of me I can’t understand a word he’s saying. Good ol’ Barty will be able to sort it out. He speaks over a hundred languages.”

“ _A hundred?_ He speaks more than _two hundred!_ ” Percy interjected, his stern disapproval forgotten. He was absolutely writhing in his seat at the mention of his idol. “Mermish, and gobbledegook, and troll...”

“Anyone can speak troll,” Fred said dismissively, “All you have to do is grunt and point.”

Harry sniggered under his breath at Percy’s aghast expression as he turned to angrily stoke the fire.

“So... any news of Bertha Jorkins?” Mr Weasley asked.

“Not a dicky bird. But that’s just how Bertha is. Guarantee she stumbles back into the Ministry in October thinking it’s just July.”

“But don’t you think it would be wise to send someone after her?” Mr Weasley said carefully.

“Barty keeps saying that but I’m afraid there isn’t enough manpower. Ah speak of the devil!”

A wizard had just Apparated in front of their tent and he was a stark contrast to Bagman, who was currently sprawled out on the grass. He was a stiff postured man, with a middle part so unnaturally straight it looked like it was made with a ruler. He wore an impeccably crisp suit, and the toothbrush moustache that decorated his upper lip didn’t have a strand out of place. Barty Crouch has complied with the Muggle dressing rule so well, that Harry doubted Uncle Vernon could have identified him as anything but Muggle. It was very obvious now why Percy iso loses him.

“Ah Barty! Have a seat!” Bagman grinned, patting the space next to him.

“No thank you,” Crouch said, a hint of impatience in his voice. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere. The Bulgarians want twelve extra seats added to the top box.”

“Oh is _that_ what they were after? Thought they were asking for tweezers. But of a strong accent eh?”

“Mr Crouch,” Percy said breathlessly, dipped into a bow so low his nose almost touched the grass. “May I offer you some tea?”

Mr Crouch looked on in surprise at Percy. He scrunched his face up for a moment, as if trying to recall something, before saying, “Ah yes. Thank you... Weatherby.”

Fred and George choked on their tea and Percy turned around to busy himself with the kettle, his ear tinged with pink.

“Ah Arthur,” Mr Crouch said turning to Mr Weasley, “I’ve been meaning to talk to you. Ali Bashir’s on the warpath. He wants a word with you about your embargo on flying carpets.”

Mr Weasley sighed deeply. “I’ve already sent him an owl about it. It’s classified as a Muggle Artefact but will he listen?”

“Ali thinks there’s a niche for family vehicles in Britain,” Mr Crouch said, taking a cup from Percy and blowing on his tea before taking a big sip. “I remember my Grandfather owned one. Could seat twelve. Of course that was before they were banned,” he said as a matter-of-factly. He clearly didn’t want to leave anyone in doubt about the law abiding nature of him and his family.

“Well I’ve seen everything that’s been going on. I expect you two will be glad when this is all done with.” Mr Weasley said.

“Glad?” Bagman gasped, “I’ve never had more fun in my life! Besides, the planning isn’t over yet. We still have that thing that’s happening at Hogwarts-“

“Ludo we need to see the Bulgarians,” Mr Crouch said sharply. “Come along.”

Bagman smiled jovially at everyone before rising to his feet and bouncing off after Mr Crouch.

“Dad what’s happening at Hogwarts?” Fred asked immediately after they’d left.

“That’s classified information,” Percy sniffed. “Mr Crouch was quite right not to tell you. You’ll find out soon enough.”

“Shut up Weatherby.”

As dusk arrived, the excitement in the air was palpable. 

Salesmen has started Apparating in, clutching trays filled with wondrous merchandise. “Been saving all my pocket money for this,” Ron whispered. Ron bought himself a dancing shamrock hat, a green rosette, and a small figurine of Krum, who scowled up at the rosette. 

Ginny had bought a tin of green and white everlasting paint and was painting green shamrocks on George’s face. Fred who had green and white stripes painted on his cheeks earlier was no where to be seen. 

Harry didn’t ponder on this any further as he was distracted by a cart piled high with strange looking binoculars, covered in dials and knobs. “Ooh. What’re these?”

“Omniculars,” the salesman said eagerly. “You can replay everything... slow things down... and so much more! Bargain! Ten Galleons each!”

“I wish I hadn’t bought this now,” Ron said sadly, gesturing at his dancing shamrock hat.

“Three pairs,” Harry said firmly. 

“Harry you don’t have to-“ Ron said, face turning bright red.

“Don’t worry about it. Mind you, you won’t be getting any presents for Christmas.”

“Fair enough,” Ron said grinning.

“Ooh thanks Harry! And look I’ll get us some programmes too,” said Hermione.

As they made their way back to the tent, they encountered Fred, who was holding his hands behind his back suspiciously. “Ron, Hermione, go back first. I need to speak with Harrikins for a moment.”

“What’re you playing at,” Ron said, eyeing Fred suspiciously.

“Don’t worry, you go on first,” Harry said.

Ron didn’t budge, still staring his brother down. Harry sighed exasperatedly, “If he tries anything I’ll yell, alright?” Satisfied, Ron turned around to follow Hermione back to the tent.

“So what is it-“

Fred was holding out a silver chain, and on the other end was a gold pendant of a broom that levitated, doing an occasional loop-de-loop. “Fred that’s amazing. Where’d you buy that? Might get one for myself-“

“It’s for you. I bought it for you.”

Harry was speechless. He hadn’t expected Fred to buy him something like that. 

“Th-Thank you-“

“Don’t worry about it,” Fred said, smiling down at him. “Do you want me to help put it on?”

“Y-yeah sure,” Harry said turning around. He saw Fred’s arms circle around him, and felt his warm fingers on the back of Harry’s neck as he did up the clasp. Harry felt a shiver go up his spine.

Harry turned back to face Fred, his face significantly warmer. “Thank you. Really.”

“Don’t mention it. Actually, you really shouldn’t mention it. George won’t be happy to know I had some spare change lying around and kept it from him.” The pair chuckled lightly. “You should tuck it under your shirt. It might try to fly away. Blasted thing almost flew out of my hand when I bought it.”

“What’s kept you,” Ron said when Fred and Harry returned, still eyeing Fred suspiciously.

Just then-a deep booming gong sounded, and at once, green and red lanterns blazed to life in the woods, lighting the way to pitch.

“Come on everyone!” said Mr Weasley excitedly, “Let’s go!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are escalating. Also, Harry falling in love with everyone is such a mood.


	8. Veelas and Archenemies

With their merchandise in hand, they followed the trail of lanterns into the forest. All around them, they could hear the buzz of excitement from all the other witches and wizards. The atmosphere was electric; Harry couldn’t stop grinning. He could feel his broomstick necklace pushing up against his sweater in an attempt to escape.

Finally the group reached the gigantic stadium, and stared in awe as they stood in its shadow. Though Harry only saw a small fraction of the stadium, he knew ten cathedrals could fit inside it comfortably.

“Prime seats!” shouted the Ministry witch at the entrance, “Top Box! Just head up as high you can go Arthur.”

The stairs into the stadium were carpeted with lush velvet. They climbed and climbed and climbed until finally, they reached the top of the staircase. They’d found themselves in a small box, set at the highest point of the stadium and situated exactly halfway between the golden goalposts. Around twenty purple-and-gilt chairs stood in two rows, and Harry, filing into the front seats with the rest, looked down at an absolutely breathtaking scene.

A hundred thousand witches and wizards were filing in, taking their places in their seats which rose in levels around the oval pitch. Everything glowed with a mysterious warm golden glow that seemed to emanate with the stadium itself.

Tearing his eyes from the pitch below, Harry looked around the box to see who else was there. He spotted someone, about the size of a small child, it’s legs dangling off its seat. It was wearing someone that looked like a tea towel draped over it like a toga. Even though it had its face in its hands, it’s pointy bat-like ears were instantly recognisable to Harry. _”Dobby?”_

The tiny creature raised its head from its hands, to reveal big brown eyes and a nose that looked like a squashed tomato. It wasn’t Dobby, but it was a house-elf, just like Harry’s friend Dobby. Or rather, like how Dobby _was_. In his second year, Harry had freed Dobby from his cruel owners, the Malfoys.

“Did sir just call me Dobby?” squeaked the house-elf curiously. It’s voice was high pitched and quivering, bordering on grating. Harry suspected-though it was always hard to tell-that this house-elf was a female. Ron and Hermione spin around in their seats to look. While Harry had certainly told them a lot about Dobby, neither of them had actually met him. Even Mr Weasley looked around curiously.

“Sorry, I thought you were someone else,” Harry said.

“But I knows Dobby too, sir!” she squeaked. She was shielding her face even though the lights from the pitch didn’t quite make it up to the Top Box. “My name is Winky, sir-and you, sir-“ her watery brown eyes widened to the size of saucers as they rested on Harry’s scar, “you is surely Harry Potter!”

“Yeah I am.”

“But Dobby talks of you all the time, sir!” she squealed.

“How is he? How’s freedom suiting him?” Harry asked.

“Ah sir,” Winky said morosely, shaking her head, “Ah meaning no disrespect sir, but I is not sure you did Dobby a favour, sir, when you is setting him free.”

“What? Why?” Harry questioned, taken aback. “What wrong with Dobby?”

“Freedom is going to Dobby’s head, sir,” Winky said gravely, “He can’t get any work, sir.”

“Well why not?”

Winky lowered her voice and whispered, _”He is wanting paying for his work, sir!”_

“Paying?” Harry said blankly. “Well-good for him. He should be paid for work!”

Winky looked scandalised at Harry’s words and went back to burying her face in her hands.

“House-elves is not paid, sir!” Winky squeaked. “No no no. I says to Dobby, I do. You finds yourself a nice family and settle down. He is going around causing all sorts of rackets, sir. Next things I hear he is goings in front of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, like a common goblin.”

“Well about time he had some fun,” said Harry.

“No no, house-elves is not having fun, sir,” Winky said insistently, “House-elves is doing what they is told. I is not liking heights but my master told me to save his seat for him, sir, so I am.” She peered off the side of the box and gulped loudly. “But Winky is a good house-elf, Winky is doing what she is told.”

Harry turned back to Ron and Hermione. “So that’s a house-elf? Strange things aren’t they,” Ron muttered. “Dobby was stranger,” Harry said fervently.

The box started filling around them gradually over the next half-hour. Mr Weasley kept getting to his feet to shake hands with someone and sit down, only to stand up again to shake hands with another person. They were obviously very important wizards and witches. Percy jumped up so frantically and frequently that he looked like he was sitting on a hedgehog. When the Minister of Magic of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, came, Percy dipped into a bow so fast, his glasses flew from his face and shattered on the floor. Embarrassedly, he repaired his glasses and sat back down, glaring jealously as Fudge greeted Harry like an old friend.

Fudge shook Harry’s hand in a fatherly sort of manner, and began introducing him to wizards. “This is Harry Potter! You know Harry Potter-The boy who survived you-know-who? Surely you must know?”

A Bulgarian wizard spotted Harry’s scar and pointed at it, exclaiming excitedly. 

“There we go. Knew we’d finally get there,” he huffed, “Never good with languages. Need Barty Crouch for that-Ah Lucius!” 

Harry, Ron, and Hermione whipped around. Edging into the second row, into the three last available seats behind Mr Weasley, were the Malfoys.

Lucius Malfoy, Draco Malfoy, and a woman who Harry supposed was Draco’s mother, were none other than Dobby’s old owners.

Harry and Draco had been enemies ever since their very first journey to Hogwarts. With his pale skin, pointed face, and white blond hair, Draco greatly resembled his father. His mother was tall and slim, with two streaks of blond hair on the sides of her face, pulled back with the rest of her hair, which was black, into a tight bun. She had a nasty look on her face, as if she’d just smelled something foul.

“Ah Fudge, how are you,” Mr Malfoy said, extending his hand. “Don’t suppose you’ve met my wife Narcissa, or my son Draco?”

“Ah so lovely to see all of you,” Fudge said cheerfully, “I suppose it’s time to make some introductions. Lucius have you met Arthur?”

Mr Weasley and Mr Malfoy locked eyes and it was a tense moment. The last time they’d seen each other, they’d gotten into a fight, and Mr Malfoy had slipped Ginny an enchanted book which almost got her killed.

Mr Malfoy eyed Me Weasley coldly and said quietly, “Good lord Arthur, what did you have to do to get these tickets? Surely that house of yours wouldn’t have gone for much.” If Fudge heard what Mr Malfoy had said, he pretended not to listen.

“Lucius has just given a very generous donation to St. Minho’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, Arthur. He’s here as my guest.”

“How... nice.” Mr Weasley replied strained. 

He turned to Hermione and sneered. His attitude towards Hermione wasn’t surprising, considering his stance on blood purity.

As the Malfoys settled in their seats, Draco leaned forward and hissed, “Potter!” Of course Draco had chosen the seat right behind him. “So what did that blubbering idiot do to get you these tickets.”

“A favour from a friend,” Harry said curtly, refusing to look at Malfoy. 

“Huh. I would’ve thought maybe he’d have used you to make the money,” Malfoy sneered, _”Kiss the chosen for just one Galleon.”_

“OY!” Ron roared from beside Harry. Fred and George jumped to their feet, ready to tackle Malfoy, and Ginny started swearing at Malfoy.

“Hey!” Mr Weasley shouted, struggling to restrain Fred and George. “Don’t it’s not worth it!” 

“Control your children Arthur,” Mr Malfoy sneered.

Harry heard Malfoy snigger, his breath ghosting along the back of his neck. He looked at Ron desperately, who got up. “Come on, let’s switch,” Ron said.

As Harry settled into his new seat next to Hermione, he glanced over at Malfoy, who was still leering. “Slimy git,” Ron muttered as he, Harry, and Hermione turned to face the pitch again. Just then, Ludo Bagman charged into the box. 

“Everyone ready?” he said, his face gleaming with excitement. “Minister, shall we?”

“Ready when you are Ludo.”

Ludo whipped out his wand and placed its tip at his throat, saying, _Sonorus!_ He spoke, his voice echoing loudly over the chattering of the stadium, “Ladies and gentlemen... welcome! Welcome to the final of the four hundred and twenty-second Quidditch World Cup!”

The spectators screamed and clapped. Large lettering started to appear on the black board opposite them, as if someone invisible was writing on it. BULGARIA: ZERO, IRELAND: ZERO.

“And now without further ado, allow me to welcome the Bulgarian Team Mascots!”

“I wonder what they’ve brought,” Mr Weasley said, staring at the pitch intently. “Ah, Veelas!” he exclaimed, hurriedly wiping his glasses.

“What’re Vee-“

But just then, a hundred Veelas glided out onto the pitch, and Harry’s question was answered. Veelas were women. Beautiful women. Except-they couldn’t be human. There was no way. Harry tried to decipher what made their skin shine moon-bright, what magical forces made their white-gold hair fan out from behind them without wind. But then the music started, and Harry stopped thinking.

The Veela had started to dance, and Harry’s mind had gone completely blank. All that mattered was that he keep watching them dance, because if he didn’t, terrible, terrible things were sure to happen.

As the Veela started to dance harder, their hips swaying from side-to-side, half-formed thoughts started rushing through Harry’s brain. _”I’ve got to do something to impress them.”_ Harry thought to himself. _”Yes... yes I’ll jump off the box. That should impress them.”_

“Harry what’re you _doing_?” Hermione said shrilly. 

The music had stopped. Harry froze, one of his legs was swung over the side of the box. He looked around to see utter chaos. Ron was standing from edge of the box, poised, ready to dive. Fred was hauling George, who looked very dazed, down from his seat, cackling loudly. Ginny was pulling back from the edge confusedly. Hearing shouting behind him, he turned around to see Narcissa Malfoy yelling at Mr Malfoy, who embarrassedly picked up his wedding ring from the floor and placed it back on his finger. He locked eyes with Malfoy, who was sitting coolly, arms crossed, observing the chaos around him. _Why the hell wasn’t he affected?_ Malfoy raised an eyebrow at him and, flushing, Harry retracted his leg and sat back down in his seat, humiliated. 

Angry yells were filling the stadium. No one wanted the Veela to go. Harry vaguely began to wonder why he had a shamrock pinned to his chest, and why he was supporting Ireland in the first place. “Huh?” Ron said confusedly, still standing on the edge of the box. 

_”Honestly!”_ Hermione huffed, leaning over Harry to pull Ron back into his seat.

“That was brilliant wasn’t it!” exclaimed Mr Weasley, pink circles colouring his cheeks.

“And now,” roared Ludo Bagman’s voice, “kindly put your wands in the air... for the Irish National Team Mascots!”

What looked like a big green and gold comet shot into the stadium. It zipped around the stadium before splitting into two, each hurtling towards the goalposts. A rainbow suddenly arched over the pit, connected by the two balls of light. The crowded gasped at the display. The rainbow faded away and the two comets joined; they formed a great shimmering shamrock, which rose up high above the stands. As Harry squinted up at the shamrock, he realised it was comprised of thousands of small bearded men, each carrying a lantern coloured gold or green. Something like golden rain started to pour from it-

“Excellent!” yelled Ron, holding his hands out as the shamrock glided over their heads. As the golden rain, poured on them, Harry realised what they were. Gold coins. 

“There you go,” Ron said, stuffing a fistful of coins into Harry’s hands. “Now I’ve paid you back for the Omnioculars! Now you’ve got to buy me a Christmas present, ha!”

“Leprechauns!” exclaimed Mr Weasley, over the tumultuous applause of the crowd, many of which were fighting to get the coins. 

The shamrock dissolved and the leprechauns settled down next to the Veelas on the pitch.

“And now without further ado, ladies and gentlemen, kindly welcome-the Bulgarian National Quidditch Team! I give you-Dimitrov!”

A scarlet-clad figure on a broomstick zipped out onto the pitch, so fast it was a blur. The Bulgarian supports cheered loudly.

“Ivanovo!”

Another scarlet blur zipped out on the pitch.

“Zograf! Levski! Vulchanov! Volkov! Aaaaaaaand- _Krum!_ ”

“That’s him! That’s him!” Ron yelled excitedly as he focused on Krum using his omnioculars. Harry followed in suit, examining Krum.

Viktor Krum was large and well-built. His eyebrows were as thick as caterpillars and his nose was crooked. His chin sported a goatee. Hard to believe he was only eighteen.

“And now, please greet- the Irish National Quidditch Team!” yelled Bagman. “Presenting-Connolly! Ryan! Troy! Mullet! Moran! Quit leg! Aaaaaaaaaand-Lynch!”

Seven green blurs zoomed out into the pitch. 

“And here all the way from Egypt, our referee, acclaimed Chairwizard of the International Association of Quidditch, Hassan Mostafa!”

A small and skinny wizard, completely bald except for a bushy moustache that would rival Uncle Vernon’s, strode out onto the pitch, clad in pure gold robes. Harry used his Omnioculars as Mostafa mounted his broomstick and kicked the crate open. He released three balls, the bludgers which zoomed off, and the small golden snitched, which zipped around before speeding off, quickly vanishing from view. Both teams waited with bated breath as Mostafa grabbed the Quaffle. 

He held the Quafflle for a moment, and threw it high into the air, flying out of the way.

“Theeeeey’re OFF!” screamed Bagman. “And it’s Mullet! Troy! Moran! Dimitrov! Back to Mullet! Troy! Levski! Moran!”

This was Quidditch as Harry’s had never seen before. And he’d thought his Quidditch games at Hogwarts were fast-paced. Harry slowed down his view of the game, turning the dial. He marveled at the skill and agility of the chasers, and the strength and sharpness of the beaters. 

“TROY SCORES!” Bagman roared, and the stadium erupted into applause and cheers. “Ten-zero to Ireland!”

“What?” Harry yelled, looking around wildly in his Omnioculars, “But Levski’s got the Quaffle!”

“Harry if you keep watching things at half-speed you’re going to miss thing!” Hermione said, jumping up and down and waving her arms as Troy did a victory lap around the pitch.

Furious with himself, Harry set the speed of his Omnioculars back to normal. 

Peering at the game at normal speed now, Harry could see just how good the Irish chasers were. They worked seamlessly as a team, seeming to anticipate each other’s moves before they made them.

As the Irish team scored another goal, the leprechauns got up and did a jig while the Veelas stared on sulkily. 

The tables were very quickly turned as Bulgaria scored their first goal. As the Veelas danced in celebration, Mr Weasley yelled, “Cover your ears!” Harry stuffed his fingers in his ears and screwed his eyes shut. After a few seconds, Harry looked back at the pitch to see the Veela had stopped dancing and the leprechauns were looking dejected.

“Oh I say!” Bagman exclaimed.

One hundred thousand witches and wizards gasped as the two seekers, Krum and Lynch, plummeted through the centre of the chasers. Harry squinted to see where the Snitch was-

“They’re going to crash!” Hermione screamed.

She was half-right. At the last second, Krum pulled up, and Lynch hit the ground with a loud thud that shook the stadium.

“Fool!” Mr Weasley moaned. “Krum was feinting!”

A healer rushed out onto the pitch as Bagman Mostafa called a timeout.

As Harry replayed the scene using his Omnioculars, he watched Krums expression right before he pulled out, and he understood. Krum hadn’t actually seen the snitch, he was just pretending to. Harry had never seen someone as skilled as Krum before. The concentration on his face right before he pulled up, the swiftness off his actions, and the gracefulness with which Krum flew, left Harry awestruck.

Harry turned his Omnioculars back to normal and focused on Krum once again. His eyes were farting around and Harry realised, he was using the timeout to look for the snitch. Harry marveled at Krum’s genius.

When Lynch finally got to his feet, to loud cheers from the green-clad Ireland supporters, it seemed to give the Ireland Team more life than ever before. They became even swifter and efficient.

Soon enough, Mullet was zooming towards the goal posts, Quaffle in arm. The Bulgarian keeper Zograf flew out to meet her and elbowed her forcefully in the guy, forcing her to drop the Quaffle. 

Mostafa blew his whistle shrilly and awarded a penalty to Ireland.

The leprechauns on the pitch spelled out “HA HA HA!” The Veelas scoffed at them and began dancing again, flipping their hair. All of them, save for Hermione and oddly, Fred, plugged their ears with their fingers. As Harry looked behind Ron, he noticed that strangely, Draco hadn’t plugged his ear either and was simply staring at the pitch excitement in his eyes. 

Hermione tugged on his arm forcefully, making him turn back to the pitch. “Look at the referee!” she giggled. Mostafa had flown down to the Veela and was flexing his muscles in front of them.

“Now we can’t have that!” Bagman said amusedly, “Someone slap the referee!” 

A healer sprinted across the field and kicked Mostafa in the shins. He jolted up, looking embarrassed, and started yelling.

“Oh... oh my I think he’s trying to send the mascots off the field!” Bagman gasped. “Now _this_ is something I haven’t seen before.”

The leprechauns had once again spelled out words. “HEE HEE HEE!” they spelled. 

“This could turn ugly quick!”

The two Bulgarian beaters landed on either side of Mostafa and started gesticulating angrily at the leprechauns who were giggling gleefully. 

Mostafa tried to get them to fly again but when they refused, he blew his whistle loudly.

“Two penalties for Ireland!” Bagman cheered. 

The players now became more ferocious than ever.

The Bulgarian keeper rammed himself into an Irish chaser, almost causing her to fall off her broom. 

“Foul!” Bagman yelled.

The leprechauns has now formed themselves into a large hand, which was making a very rude gesture at the Veelas. They roared loudly and as Harry gawped at them through his Omnioculars, they didn’t beautiful at all now.

Their faces had elongated into beaks and scaly wings burst from their back.

“And that, boys,” Mr Weasley shouted over the roar of the crowd, “Is why you should never go for looks alone!”

The Irish bearer swung a Bludger at Krum, who didn’t duck fast enough. It smashed into his nose, breaking it. 

The crowd hissed. It was understandable why Krum didn’t pay attention though. A Veela has hurled a fireball at him, setting his broom on fire.

“Time out! He can’t play like this-“

“Look at Lynch!”

The Irish seeker had dropped into a dive. This time, Harry was certain it was the real thing.

Lynch zoomed towards the ground, Krum close on his tail. Once again, the pair hurtled towards the ground.

“They’re going to crash!” shrieked Hermione.

“They’re not!”

“Lynch is!” Harry yelled.

And he was right. For the second time Lynch lay in a crumpled heap on the floor.

“The snitch?” Charlie asked frantically. “Where’s the snitch?”

“He’s got it! Krum’s got it! It’s over!” Harry yelled.

Krum was rising to his feet, raising the golden snitch above his head. 

The scoreboard was flashing BULGARIA: ONE HUNDRED AND SIXTY, IRELAND: ONE HUNDRED AND SEVENTY.

The crowd roared loudly, with Bulgarian supporters booing, and Ireland supporters screaming their joy.

“IRELAND WIN!” shouted Bagman, who much like everyone else, was taken aback by the sudden win. 

“Vell, ve fought bravely,” said a gloomy voice behind Harry. He looked around; it was the Bulgarian Minister for Magic.

“You can speak English?” Fudge roared, outraged.

“Vell, it vos very funny.”

The Top Box was suddenly illuminated by a dazzling light that blinded Harry momentarily. Squinting at the entrance, two panting wizards hoisted a large golden trophy, which they handed to Fudge, who still looked disgruntled about the fact that he’d been made a fool of.

“Let’s have a loud hand for the gallant losers-Bulgaria!” 

The seven Bulgarian players trudged into the box. Krum, who was last in line, looked absolutely terrible. The bottom half of his face was coloured scarlet by his bloody, broken nose and he sported two black eyes. Harry noticed he was much less coordinated on the ground. When he walked, he had the gait of a duck. As all the players names were said, the stadium erupted into thunderous applause.

And then arrived the Irish team, cheering rowdily, with Lynch hoisted on their shoulders, who looked a bit unfocused. They lifted the cup into the air and the crowd below shouted their approval. 

When they’d all left, Bagman pointed his wand at his throat and muttered, _”Quietus.”_

“They’ll be talking about this for years. What a twist. Shame it didn’t go on longer though. Ah... yes... How much do I owe you?” 

Fred and George had scrambled forward, their hands outstretched with grins on their faces.


	9. Morsmordre

Even though it was well past 12, nobody felt like sleeping. Fred and George hopped up and down like children who had consumed a bag of sugar, while singing some Irish jig. Bill and Charlie were holed up in a corner debating the match very seriously, and Percy who had given up on telling them to shut up, put a pillow over his head as he tried to sleep. 

A loud explosion from outside distracted them for a bit. Bill and Charlie looked up from their conversation to try to peer out of the tent. “I think I’m going to go out and check. Make sure the Irish aren’t causing too much trouble,” Mr Weasley said, getting up from his cozy spot near the heater and heading out of the tent.

Ron got up on the table, his face still flushed from the excitement of the match, (and the firewhiskey Fred and George slipped to him), and declared loudly, “Krum’s more than an athlete!” At his rousing words, Fred and George, who were also ruddy faced, started circling him, cawing, _”Krum! Krum!”_ like a band of pigeons. “He’s an artist!” Ron finished loudly. In agreement, Fred draped a large Irish flag over Ron’s head. 

“Think you’re in love Ron,” Ginny cooed as she passed by. “Shut up,” Ron muttered as he fished through the pile of fabric on his head to drop it to the ground. 

_“Viktor I love you,”_ Fred sung. _”Viktor I do,”_ George croaked. _”When we’re apart my heart beats only for youuu,”_ Harry and Ginny joined in, their tone deaf voices adding to the cacophony in the tent. Percy grunted unhappily and buried his face deeper into his pillow. Another loud explosion rocked the tent. This time, even Percy looked up curiously.

“Huh. Sounds like the Irish really have got their pride on,” George frowned, walking up to the tent flap to close it. Suddenly, Mr Weasley burst in. 

“Everyone we need to leave now!” Mr Weasley shouted. “Dad what’s going on?” Ginny asked concernedly. “No time, just grab a jacket and get outside-quickly!” Mr Weasley ordered, his brow stitched with worry.

They all did as they were told, hurrying out to absolute chaos. People were screaming and running into the woods. They seemed to be fleeing from something that was moving across the field towards them, something that was emitting bright flashes and bangs, like a gun. Loud jeering, cackles and drunken yells we’re drifting towards them. A bright green flash then illuminated what it was everyone was running from. 

A group of wizards were making their way across the field, their wands pointed upwards.

Harry looked up to see what their wands were pointed at, and he was almost sick. Floating above them were four people, two of them definitely small enough to be children. They were hovering a few metres off the ground, their bodies twisting and writhing in an agonising manner, one of them was rotated and his face was visible to Harry. It was Mr Roberts and his wife and children. 

The wizards cackled gleefully as Mrs Roberts was flipped upside down and her nightgown fell to reveal her voluminous drawers. She screeched and tried to protect her modesty as the wizards under her, their faces concealed with hoods and ornate porcelain masks, rebelled in her humiliation. “That’s sick,” Ron hissed as the smallest person, a child of no more than five, started to spin like a top, his head lolling from side-to-side like a rag doll. 

“We’re going to help the Ministry,” Mr Weasley shouted over all the noise, rolling up his sleeves. “Fred, George, Ginny is your responsibility! You lot-get into the woods, and _stick together_. I’ll come and fetch you when we’ve sorted this out!”

He then tore after Bill, Charlie, and Percy who were already sprinting towards the group of wizards.

“C’mon,” Fred said, as he and George held each of Ginny’s hands, and pulled her towards the woods. Harry, Ron, and Hermione followed close behind. 

As they made their way into the forest, they stumbled around blindly. The lanterns that had lit the path to the Quidditch stadium had been extinguished. All around them were people shouting, children crying, and panicked voices. They were stumbling ahead when Ron let out a loud shout. “Ron are you ok?” Hermione asked, panicking. “I can’t see anything-oh sod it- _Lumos!_ ”

Their path now illuminated by Hermione’s wand, they found Ron sprawled on the ground. “Tripped over a bloody tree root,” he said angrily, scrambling to his feet.

“Well with feet that size, hard not to,” a voice drawled out behind them.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione turned sharply. Draco Malfoy was standing alone nearby them, leaning against a tree, cool as a cucumber. His arms crossed, it seemed he was watching the scene on the campsite through the trees.

“Up your arse Malfoy,” Ron snarled.

“Language, Weasley,” Malfoy said, his eyes glittering. “You kiss your mother with that mouth? Besides, I think you should all be hurrying along now. Unless you’d like _her_ to be spotted?” 

He nodded at Hermione as a loud bang reverberated through the campsite. 

“What’re you on about Malfoy,” Harry said angrily.

Malfoy turned to him, his grey eyes piercing Harry’s. “I mean, that unless Hermione would like to be paraded around in her knickers, it would be best for all of you to leave.”

“They’re after Muggles. Hermione’s a witch,” Ron retorted.

“She’s a _mudblood._ I’d hardly call that a witch,” Malfoy said coolly. 

Ron roared angrily and launched himself at Malfoy.

“Ron!” Hermione exclaimed. Harry scrambled towards the two of them as they tussled around on the floor, and aimed a few punches at Malfoy as well, though he may have accidentally clipped Ron instead.

Malfoy pushed Ron off him and launched himself at Harry. He knocked Harry to ground, making Harry hit his head on the floor, shattering his glasses. 

“All of you stop this instant!” Hermione shouted as she shoved Malfoy off Harry. As Harry, Ron and Malfoy got to their feet, they huffed exhaustedly. Ron’s nose was broken, two bruises forming around his eyes. Harry had a big cut on the side of his head, which trickles warm blood down the side of his head. Draco was sporting a black eye, causing his eye to be almost swelled shut.

“You’re scum Malfoy,” Harry spat. “I suppose it must be nice, not fearing for your life. Not fearing for the life of your parents.” 

Behind him Ron and Hermione stiffened as more bangs emanated from the campsite, with Ron, no doubt thinking about his father, and with Hermione imagining what it would be like if her parents were the muggles being tortured right now.

“I suppose you don’t really have to worry about being hurt at all, considering that your parents are a part of that crowd aren’t they,” Harry continued, jerking his head towards the group of wizards who were still advancing, despite the Ministry wizards surrounding them. 

“Well... if they were, I wouldn’t be likely to tell you, would I, Potter?” Malfoy said, his swollen face splitting into a grin.

“Oh come on,” Hermione said, shooting a disgusted look at Malfoy. “Let’s find the others.”

“You keep that bushy head of yours down, Granger!” Malfoy called out after them.

“Come _on_ ,” Hermione repeated, as she dragged Ron and Harry up the path.

“Thank you for that,” she said quietly, “But you shouldn’t have attacked Malfoy like that. Now he’ll target you even more when we get back to Hogwarts.”

“Of course we stuck up for you,” Harry said furiously. “Little git had it coming.”

“And I’ll bet you anything his dad _is_ one of the masked lot!” said Ron hotly.

“Well, with any luck, the Ministry will catch him!” said Hermione fervently. “Oh and Harry,” she paused and turned to Harry. _”Oculus reparo,”_ she said waving her wand at Harry’s glasses. The cracks in the lens of his glasses were repaired, the spiderweb of cracks sealing up with a sharp crackling sound. “Thanks,” Harry said. Hermione nodded curtly, “Try not to break your glasses anymore. I’m getting quite tired of that spell. Now where have the others got off to?”

Fred, George, and Ginny were no where in sight, though the path was crowded with a lot of people.

A huddle of fellow teenagers in pyjamas were arguing vociferously. When they spotted the trio, a girl with thick curly hair turned to them and quickly said, _”Où est Madame Maxine? Nous l’avons perdue-“_

“Er-what?” said Ron. 

“Oh...” The girl turned her back on them and as they walked away they heard her mutter, “‘Ogwarts.” 

“Beauxbatons,” Hermione muttered. 

“What?” Harry said. 

“They must go to Beauxbatons,” said Hermione. “It’s a school in France... I read about it in _An Appraisal of Magical Education in Europe._ ” 

“Oh... yeah... right...” 

Ron pulled out his wand to light up the path, and Hermione followed in suit. Harry went to take his wand out but as he patted his pockets frantically, all he found was his Omnioculars and his necklace. 

“Oh I don’t believe it... I’ve lost my wand!” 

“You’re joking.” 

Ron and Hermione used their wands to try to light the path; Harry looked all around but he couldn’t see his wand anywhere. 

“Maybe it’s back in the tent,” said Ron. 

“Maybe it fell out of your pocket while you were fighting Malfoy,” Hermione suggested anxiously. 

“Yeah. Maybe...” 

Harry suddenly felt very vulnerable. He’d never been without his wand before. He sincerely hoped that Malfoy hadn’t managed to get his slimy fingers on it. 

Suddenly, there was a rustling in the bush. The trio tensed, with Hermione and Ron pointing their wands at it. 

Winky burst out the bush. 

She was struggling to free herself from its branches and as she ran off. It was as if there was an invisible hand holding her back as she moved. 

“There’s is bad wizards about!” she squealed with extortion. “People is high high in the air! Winky is getting out of the way!” 

She disappeared into the trees on the other side of the path, panting loudly as she fought the invisible force that pulled her. 

“Why’s she moving like that?” Ron asked, gazing at where she disappeared.

“I don’t think she asked her owner for permission to leave,” Harry said, recalling how every time Dobby disobeyed, he had to “punish” himself by smacking his head into various things.

“You know the treatment of house-elves is absolutely barbaric,” Hermione sniffed. “Her Master made her save him a seat and he didn’t even show, despite the fact she’s scared of heights.”

“No it’s not,” Ron said. “You heard what Winky said. She likes the work.”

“And that’s because people like _you_ keep perpetuating unfair societ-“

Another loud bang echoed from the edge of the wood. 

“Let’s just keep moving ok?”

Harry saw Ron glance at Hermione. Maybe she really was in more danger than they thought.

As they walked deeper into the forest, they passed a lot of strange people. They saw a group of goblins run past, cackling over a sack of gold they undoubtedly won over betting. They also saw a group of Veela, surrounded by men and a few of women. As Harry squinted he recognised Stan Shunpike, the conductor of the Knight Bus. As they passed by, Harry snorted as he heard Stan claim that he was about to be the youngest Minister of Magic.

By the time they’d left the sound of the Veela and their admirers, they’d found themselves in the heart of the woods. They were completely alone now. 

“Well I reckon we can just wait here,” Harry said surveying the area, “We’ll be able to here anyone coming a mile off.”

Just as Harry said the words, Ludo Bagman’s emerged from the trees.

“Who’s there,” he called. “Show yourselves!”

Hermione and Ron pointed their wands to illuminate Bagman’s face. Harry was shocked to see that his usual buoyant and rosy face was now pale and strained.

“What’re you all doing here alone?” he asked, his voice shaky.

They all looked at each other confusedly.

“Well there’s sort of a riot going on.”

“What!”

“Yeah these wizards got hold of a group of muggles and-“

“Damn them!” Bagman swore, still looking very distracted, and without another word, he Disapparated with a small _pop_.

“Not exactly on top of things is he?” Hermione frowned. “And he looked quite ill. What’d you think’s wrong with him?”

“Dunno. Might’ve been his age getting to him. Shame, he was such a good beater,” Ron replied as he watched his Krum figurine walk back and forth on the ground.

Harry strained his ears, trying to listen out for any noise from the campsite. Everything was quiet. Maybe the riot was finally over.

“I hope the others are ok,” Hermione said quietly.

“They’ll be fine,” Ron said.

“Imagine if your dad caught Lucius Malfoy,” Harry said, sitting down next to Ron. “That would wipe the smirk off old Draco’s face alright.”

“Those poor muggles,” Hermione said. “Imagine pulling something like that when the whole Ministry’s out. You’ve got to be mad. Do you think they’ve been drinking or-“

Hermione trailed off as as footsteps started approaching their clearing.

“Hello?” Harry said, rising to his feet.

Silence. He tried to see who it was but darkness concealed his vision.

“Who’s there?” he asked.

 _“MORSMORDRE!”_ a deep voice cut through the silence of the night.

A green light erupted from a patch of darkness and shot up into the sky. Harry gazed up, trying to make out what it was. Then he realised it was a skull with a snake grotesquely slithering out its mouth.

“What the-?” gasped Ron as he jumped to his feet.

As the skull lit up the sky with its green glow, screams erupted all around them in the forest. Harry wasn’t sure what the skull meant, but he was sure it was something horrific.

“Harry we have to go!” Hermione shouted, tugging at Harry’s jacket. “That’s the Dark Mark! You-know-who’s sign!”

_”Voldemort’s-?”_

“Harry, come !”

The three of them hurried across the clearing, but before they had taken more than a few steps, they heard a series of popping noises which signalled the arrival of twenty wizards.

Harry whirled around and registered one fact: they were all pointing their wands at them. Without hesitation, he yelled, “DUCK!” He grabbed Ron and Hermione and dragged them to the ground.

“STUPEFY!” roared twenty voices and a shockwave ran out through the clearing.

“STOP!” Harry heard a familiar voice yell. “STOP THAT’S MY SON!”

Arthur Weasley ran to them and pulled all of them into a tight embrace.

Pulling away, he asked shakily, “Ron-Harry-Hermione... Are you all right?”

“Out of the way Arthur,” said a cold voice. Barty Crouch was striding towards them.

“Which one of you cast the Dark Mark!” he spat, his eyes popping out of his head. He looked quite mad. 

“None of us,” Ron snapped. “What’d you go attacking us for?”

“You have been caught at the scene of the crime!” Mr Crouch yelled. “Do not lie to me, sir!”

“Barty they’re just kids,” a witch pleaded.

“What happened Ron?” Mr Weasley asked.

“There was this voice, he said a spell and then the mark appeared in the sky,” Ron said, his eyes darting nervously to Mr Crouch, who looked as if he was about to explode. 

“Where did it happen?” 

“Over there,” Ron said, pointing to where they’d seen the green light come from. 

“It’s too late,” the witch said. “They’d have Disapparated by now.”

“Not exactly,” Mr Diggery said, walking towards the forest. “Our stunning spells might have hit him.”

“Be careful Amos!” a few of the witches and wizards warned as Mr Diggory disappeared behind the trees.

A moment of silence and then a shout. “I’ve found them! They’ve been stu- Blimey.” 

“You got someone?” Mr Crouch said in disbelief. “Who? Who is it?”

They heard the crunch of snapping twigs and dead leaves and Mr Diggory re-emerged, a small, limp figure in his arms wearing a tea towel. Winky.

Mr Crouch was frozen. He stared blankly as Winky was dropped at his feet. All the other wizards and witches were staring at Mr Crouch. Then, he appeared to come alive again.

“No- No this cannot be,” he said jerkily. “No-“

“Your own house-elf Barty,” Mr Diggory said grimly. 

“Come off it Amos,” Mr Weasley said quietly. “You don’t seriously believe she did it. She’d need a wand for starters.”

“And she had a wand,” Mr Diggory said holding up a wand. “So that’s clause three of the Code of Wand Use broken for a start. _No non-human creature is permitted to carry or use a wand._ ”

Just then there was another _pop_ and Ludo Bagman appeared. Breathless and disoriented, he spun on the spot, gazing up at the sky. 

“The Dark Mark! Who did it? Did you get them? Barty! What’s going on?”

Mr Crouch’s face had turned deathly white and his hands were twitching.

“Where you been Barty, you didn’t attend the ga-Gulping gargoyles!” Bagman exclaimed. He’d just seen Winky lying unconscious on the floor.

“My elf has been stunned,” Mr Crouch said.

“Stunned? But why-?”

Comprehension dawned on Bagman as he looked up at the mark in the sky, and back down at Winky.

“ _No!_ She couldn’t have! She’d need a wand for starters!”

“And she had one,” Mr Diggory said, showing Bagman the wand.

Crouch stayed silent, not giving a sign that he heard Mr Diggory, but Mr Diggory seemed to take his silence as consent. He raised his own wand, pointed it at Winky and said, _”Rennervate!_

Winky stirred. Her big brown eyes opened and blinked uncertainly. She looked up and gasped as she saw the mark, bursting into terrified sobs.

Harry couldn’t bare to watch Mr Diggory interrogate Winky. He shouted at her accusing her of casting the mark. Winky insisted she was innocent, every word of her’s punctuated by a sob.

Mr Diggory brandished the wand angrily and as it caught the light, Harry recognised the wand.

“Hey that’s mine!”

“Your’s?” Mr Diggory asked incredulously. “Is this a confession? You threw the wand away after casting the spell?” 

“Amos please!” said Mr Weasley said angrily. “This is _Harry Potter_ you’retalking about!”

“Ah yes,” Mr Diggory said embarrassedly, “Got a bit carried away.”

“So elf,” Mr Diggory said, fixing a steely gaze on Winky, “You picked up his wand and thought you’d have some fun with it huh?”

“I is not doing magic, sir,” Winky cried, tears streaming down her face. “I is just picking it up sir... I swear sir...”

“It wasn’t her!” said Hermione. She looked very nervous, speaking up in front of all these ministry wizards. “The person who said the incantation has a deep voice. He was a man. Winky’s got this really squeaky high pitched voice. It couldn’t be her!”

“Yeah it didn’t sound at all like an elf,” Harry agreed. 

“Yeah it was a human voice,” Ron chimed in.

“Well we’ll see,” Mr Diggory growled, looking quite unimpressed. He raised his wand and placed it tip to tip with Harry’s.

_”Prior Incantato!”_

Collective gasps sounded throughout the clearing as a gigantic serpent-tongued skull erupted from the point where the two wands met. The skull was made of a thick grey smoke: the ghost of a spell.

 _”Deletrius!”_ Mr Diggory shouted, and the smoky skull dissolved.

 _”You’ve been caught red handed elf!”_ Mr Diggory roared triumphantly.

“Amos,” Mr Weasley said loudly, “Think about it, it’s a wizard’s spell. Where would she have learnt it?”

“Perhaps Arthur is suggesting I taught her that spell,” Mr Crouch said coldly.

As the adults continued to bicker, Harry’s impatience rose. How was it possible that they were so stupid. Harry wanted nothing more than to just get back to the tent and rest his pounding head.

He was dragged out of his thoughts by Winky wailing. “No!” she shrieked, prostrating herself at Mr Crouch’s feet. “No, master! Not clothes, not clothes!”

Harry was taken aback. The only way to set a house-elf free was to present it with clothes. It was heart-wrenching to see Winky beg at Mr Crouch’s feet.

“But she was frightened!” Hermione burst out angrily. “Your elf’s scared of heights and those wizards were levitating people! Of course she wanted to get out of the way!”

“I have no use for a house-elf that disobeys me,” Mr Crouch said coldly. “I have no use for a house-elf that compromises her Master’s reputation.” 

There was a painful silence, filled by Winky’s agonising sobs. 

Mr Weasley spoke first. “Well Amos if there’s nothing else, I’d quite like to take my lot back.”

As the three of them walked away, Hermione gazing concernedly at Winky, Harry found himself lost in his thoughts again. Who on earth casted that spell? And why? 

He interrupted Hermione’s tirade on the treatment of Winky to ask Mr Weasley, “Why’s that mark so important? And why was everyone so scared of it?”

Mr Weasley shook his head. “You’re too young. During the Wizarding War, That Mark symbolised a killing. Imagine coming home and seeing that Mark over your house, knowing what you’d find when you went inside. The terror.”

Harry wondered if that Mark had been cast above his house the day his parents were killed.

Arthur led them through the endless crowd of wizards and witches whispering among themselves, and back to the campsite.

Charlie’s head was poking out of the boy’s tent.

“Dad what’s going on? Fred, George and Ginny got back ok but the others-“

“Don’t worry I’ve got them here.” 

Mr Weasley ducked into the tent and Hermione, Ron, and Harry followed close by.

Bill, Charlie and Percy were sitting on the couch. Bill was holding a rag to his bloody arm. To his relief, Fred, George and Ginny were there too. They looked shaken, but unharmed.

He made his way over to a love seat at the corner of the room and sat down heavily. Using a rag he gratefully accepted from Bill, Harry did his best to wipe the blood from his face while Ron, Hermione, and Mr Weasley tried to explain what had happened.

“Got caught in the mob?” Harry looked up to see Fred approaching him. “Nah. Ran into Malfoy,” Harry said. “That little bugger,” Fred scowled, taking a seat besides Harry.

“You should see how he ended up,” Harry joked.

“Here let me,” Fred said, taking the rag and gently wiping Harry’s neck. “You missed a spot.”

Belatedly, Harry realised that he wasn’t wearing his necklace anymore. He sincerely hoped that Fred wouldn’t ask him about it. He felt really bad about breaking his present _the day_ he got it.

Fred didn’t say anything about the missing necklace, and just drew back, handing the rag back to Harry.

Harry turned back to catch the last part of the conversation.

“The Mark scared the Death Eaters away the moment they saw it. We caught the Robertses before they hit the ground, though. They’re having their memories modified now.”

“Death Eaters?” asked Harry.

“Voldemort’s supporters,” Bill said. “That’s who we think started the attack. The ones who managed to keep themselves out of Azkaban anyway.”

“There’s no way of proving it was them,” Mr Weasley said hopelessly. “Though it probably was.”

“Yeah I bet it was!” Ron said suddenly. “Dad, we met Draco Malfoy in the woods, and he good as told us his dad was one of those nutters in masks!”

“But why were Voldemort’s-,” Harry began. Everyone flinched. “Sorry. Why were you-know-who’s supporters levitating muggles?”

“Why?” Mr Weasley snorted. “Probably good fun for them. Got a little drunk, thought they’d reminisce about the good times. Decided to start torturing muggles.”

“But why’d they run when they saw the mark?”

“Think about it Harry, how many of them said they were mind controlled. How many of them turned in fellow Death Eaters. They all betrayed you-know-who, of course they’d be terrified.”

Mr Weasley looked around at the weary faces around him and cleared his throat. “But enough of that. It’s late, we should all go to bed. Your mother will be so worried when word comes out about what happened.”

And so Harry lay in bed that night, thoughts filling his head. It had been three days ago that his scar hurt. Was this related? And was Malfoys father really a Death Eater? He clutched the broken necklace in his hand. It was about 4 in the morning, with Charlie’s snores filling the tent, that Harry finally fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well the chapters keep getting beefier and beefier. Sorry if updates take a bit longer because of this.


	10. Going back to Hogwarts

They all packed up the next morning in a daze, all of them various levels of sleep deprived. As they passed by Mr Roberts, they waved good bye to him. He merely stared blankly at them, his eyes glazed and his face relaxed. 

“Don’t worry about him,” Mr Weasley whispered. “Whenever someone gets _Obliviated_ they get like this. And that was a big wipe they had to do. The chap will be fine in a few days.”

As they reached the end of the campsite, they encountered a huge group of witches and wizards, who were clamouring around Basil, who looked very stressed. Evidently they wanted the fastest Portkey out of there. Mr Weasley eventually managed to snag an old rubber tire and the group arrived back at Stoatshead Hill.

As they landed, Harry once again tumbled onto the floor and grumpily brushed himself off. He looked around, the rising sun casting pink light onto all of them. Cedric and his father were no where to be seen. _”I hope they’re alright...”_ Harry thought to himself as they all trudged down the hill.

As The Burrow came into sight, they were greeted with a horrified shout. Mrs Weasley came running into view, her night robe and slippers still on.

“I was so worried when I heard what’d happened!” she cried, pulling Mr Weasley into an embrace. 

She then turned to Fred and George, and to everyone’s surprise, pulled them into a bone-crushing hug. “I can’t imagine if something had happened to the both of you! If you-know-who had got you and the last thing I did was shout at you about your O.W.L.s.”

“Don’t worry about it Mum,” Fred said, pulling away from her. 

“Yeah Mum, it’s already forgotten,” George said smiling.

“I’ve got to go the Ministry,” Mr Weasley said. In his hand was _The Daily Prophet_ which had been dropped by Mrs Weasley. 

“Why? You just got back Arthur,” Mrs Weasley asked.

“I’m in this article,” Mr Weasley said grimly. 

“What where?” Mrs Weasley asked hurriedly, grabbing the newspaper from him. “If I’d known then I wouldn’t have been so worried.”

“I’m not mentioned by name,” Mr Weasley said, shrugging off his backpack. “Rita Skeeter said that “a ministry officer withheld information from the public”, and that “the ministry didn’t shed light on the rumour that several bodies were removed from the forest”. If there weren’t rumours before, there will be now.”

“Oh but Arthur, you’re on holiday. This doesn’t even have to do with your department!”

“I made things worse,” Mr Weasley said. “It’s my responsibility to smooth things over.” He pressed a kiss to Mrs Weasley’s cheek and disappeared with a _pop_.

“Well, the rest of you come on,” Mrs Weasley sighed.

They all trudged in after her, and sighed happily as they saw the table, laden with eggs, sausage, bacon, and beans.

They lapsed into silence as they all shovelled food into their mouths. Mrs Weasley, who wasn’t eating, sat at the table, her head resting on her hand. “I really wish your father didn’t have to leave,” she said forlornly.

“Well honestly, none of this would have happened if Dad hadn’t made those comments,” Percy said haughtily.

“Don’t you dare blame this on your Father!” Mrs Weasley snapped.

“Yeah the Skeeter woman would have written something nasty either way,” Bill said. “Reminds me of when she interviewed me in Egypt. She called me a long haired pillock.”

As the days went on, Mr Weasley came home later, and later, his face looking drawn and weary. No matter how much Harry, Ron, and Hermione bugged him on who cast the Dark Mark, he refused their questions. Eventually giving up, the trio resorted themselves to spending the rest of their holidays with more mundane things.

Harry spent a lot of time playing Quidditch with Ron, Bill, Charlie, Fred and George, and occasionally Ginny. Hermione, who would constantly be poring over some book, would look up at them every now and again and mutter _“boys”_ under her breath.

But Harry found himself feeling a little left out at times. Trying to make good on Fred and George’s promise to show him more of their products, Harry would go up to them. But they were always huddled together, whispering furiously to each other, barely sparing Harry a second glance. Perhaps Fred _had_ noticed that Harry’s necklace was missing and had been offended Harry had removed it so quickly. 

All Harry had to do was repair the necklace and wear it. Then surely Fred would like him again. Problem was, Harry didn’t know how to fix it. Sure, he could ask someone else for help but he was scared that someone would find out who he’d gotten it from, and Fred had specifically said not to tell anyone.

September the first had finally come, and with it came some end-of-holidays gloom. The sky was overcast and a chill ran through the air. It was time to go back to Hogwarts. The house was in absolute chaos as they scrambled to finish packing. As Harry came downstairs lugging his trunk, he was surprised to see it was a rare morning that Mr Weasley was still at The Burrow. Stranger still, he was speaking very intently into the fireplace. As Harry peered around the fireplace, he was shocked to discover Mr Diggory’s head peeking out from between the logs.

“A right old mess it is,” Mr Diggory sighed.

“Dunno why Mad-eye had to choose today of all days to cause trouble,” Mr Weasley grumbled.

“Do you think there really was an intruder?” Mr Diggory asked.

“No, knowing Mad-eye there’s probably just a very cross cat walking around, covered in banana peels right now,” Mr Arthur said, rising to his feet. “I’ll head over to the ministry right now.”

“Oh and Amos, would you like a slice of toast?” Mrs Weasley asked.

“Why not?” Mr Diggory said, opening his mouth.

Mrs Weasley placed a slice of toast in his mouth using a pair of tongs.

“Fanks,” Mr Diggory mumbled before vanishing with a _pop _.__

__“Molly will you be alright taking the kid’s to the station?”_ _

__“Yes go on now.”_ _

__Mr Weasley Apparated away._ _

__By then, the rest of the people heading to Kings Cross station had entered the kitchen._ _

__“Mad-eye Moody?” George asked. “Isn’t he some nutter?”_ _

__“You Father thinks very highly of him.”_ _

__“Well Dad collects plugs.”_ _

As they all prepared to leave, Percy stayed behind, apologising profusely. “Right now the Ministry has nobody to spare. Mr Crouch needs me, now more than ever.”

“You know what,” George said seriously, “You’re right, and maybe Mr Crouch will finally know your name.”

Mrs Weasley had bravely volunteered to order three Muggle taxis to take them to London.

They stood awkwardly in the rain soaked yard as three taxi drivers heaved six heavy Hogwarts trunks into their cars.

As Harry, Ron, and Hermione’s taxi driver shoved Hedwig’s and Pigwidegeon’s cages into his car, Mrs Weasley turned to Harry. “He doesn’t look very happy does he.” Pigwidgeon let out a loud screech.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione arrived at King’s Cross station, significantly more scratched than they had been when they left. (Crookshanks had been rather startled earlier when some Dr Filibuster’s Fabulous Wet-Start, No-Heat Fireworks went off unexpectedly after Fred’s trunk sprang open.)

As he had the years before, (except for his second), Harry walked through the barrier dividing platform nine and ten, and platform nine and three-quarters materialised before him. 

The Hogwarts Express had already arrived, gleaming a bright scarlet.

Ron, Harry, and Hermione hopped onto the train and found a compartment, storing their luggage in it. They quickly headed back to the platform to say goodbye to Charlie, Bill, and Mrs Weasley.

Charlie was hugging Ginny. He smiled and said, “I might see you all sooner than you think.”

“What’s that supposed to mean,” Fred said.

“Don’t you worry about it dear,” Mrs Weasley said, kissing him and the cheek and sending him off with a pat.

“Now no mischief!” she called out to Fred and George as they boarded the train. 

“No mischief,” Fred chuckled to Harry, “Does she know who we are?”

As Harry, Ron, and Hermione settled down in their compartment, Fred and George trailed behind them. 

“Oy find your own compartment!” Ron shouted.

“Can’t we spend time with our favourite baby brother?” Fred pouted.

“Go on then! Don’t you want to see Lee?”

Fred and George grumbled as Ron pushed them down the corridor.

Harry stared as they left, wishing Ron hadn’t sent them away.

“I swear they get more annoying as they get older,” Ron huffed.

The whistle blew, and Harry, Ron, and Hermione waved goodbye to Mrs Weasley as the train started to move off.

“I wonder what’s going on this year?” Ron wondered. “Everyone’s been awfully secretive. I hate it.”

“Yeah and speaking of secretive,” Hermione chimed in. “They really haven’t caught who cast the Dark Mark? I mean they have to charge someone for it. Surely they won’t pin it on Winky?”

Ron sighed, before focusing on Hedwig’s cage. 

“Hedwig’s still gone? Did you send a letter to someone? It’s been ages!”

Harry shifted uncomfortably. 

“Harry what is it?” Hermione asked.

“Ok there’s something I need to tell yo-“ Harry started. He was interrupted by the drawling voice of Malfoy drifting in from the compartment next to theirs. 

“... Father actually considered sending me to Durmstrang rather than Hogwarts, you know. He knows the Headmaster you see. Well, you know his opinion of Dumbledore-the man’s sucks a Mudblood lover-and Durmstrang doesn’t admit that sort of riff-raff. But Mother didn’t like the idea of me going to school so far away. Father says Durmstrang takes a far more sensible line than Hogwarts about the Dark Arts. Durmstrang students actually _learn_ them, not just the defence rubbish we do...”

Hermione tiptoed to the door and closed it.

She returned to her seat with a huff. “So he thinks Durmstrang would have suited him, does he? Well I wish he _had_ gone. Then we wouldn’t have to put up with him. Anyways, Harry what were you saying?”

Harry suddenly felt very awkward as both Ron, and Hermione looked at him expectingly. “Isentsiriusaletterbecausemyscarhurt.”

“What?” Hermione said, confused.

Taking a deep breath to calm his nerves, Harry said, “About three days before you picked me up for the World Cup, my scar hurt. That’s why Hedwig is gone, because I sent Sirius a letter.”

Ron and Hermione’s reactions were almost exactly as Harry had imagined them back in his bedroom at Privet Drive. Hermione gasped and started making suggestions at once, mentioning and quoting from several books, and talking about everyone from Dumbledore to Madam Pompfrey.

Ron gulped. He looked absolutely dumbstruck. “But-he wasn’t there, was he? You-know-who? I mean-last time your scar kept hurting, he was at Hogwarts, wasn’t he?”

“I’m sure he wasn’t in Privet Drive,” Harry said. “But I was dreaming about him... and Peter too I think-Wormtail remember? I can’t remember it exactly but I know they were plotting to kil... someone.”

Harry caught himself from saying “me”. Hermione looked horrified enough.

“It was only a dream,” Ron said bracingly. “A nightmare.”

“Yeah, but you don’t know that for sure,” Harry said, turning to look out of the window at the brightening sky. “You have to admit it’s strange. My scar hurts then three days later the Death Eaters are on the march and Voldemort’s mark is in the sky again.”

“Don’t say his name,” Ron hissed, his teeth gritted.

“And remember last year,” Harry went on, “The prophecy Professor Trelawney made?”

Hermione look of horror quickly turned into one of amusement. 

“Oh Harry, please tell me you don’t believe anything that old fraud says?”

“You weren’t there. You didn’t hear her. This time was different. She went into a trance-a real one. And she said the Dark Lord would rise again... _greater and more terrible than before..._ and he’d manage it because his servant was going to go back to him... and that night Wormtail escaped.”

“Well,” Ron said, brightening, “It was a good idea to write to Sirius. He’ll know what to do!”

As the Hogwarts Express chugged along, the torrential downpour worsened, completely blanketing the countryside with sheets of rain, and obscuring the view. 

Seamus, Dean, and another friend, Neville Longbottom popped in to visit their compartment. They discussed the Quidditch World Cup excitedly, but Neville looked down sadly. “I wanted to go but my Gran said the tickets were too expensive.”

After a few games of exploding snap, the trio went on their way and were quickly replaced by Fred, George, and their friend Lee Jordon.

“Hey Ron, miss us?”

Ron scowled.

Fred and George sat on either side of Harry, their body heat warming Harry who had been feeling rather chilly for a while. 

“Now Ron, don’t take this the wrong way, but we’re actually here to see Harry.”

“What? What for?” Ron said, still scowling.

“Come on Ron,” Lee said, “Wanna trade chocolate frog cards?”

Ron brightened considerably at this.

“Now Harry, we have a proposition for you,” Fred said.

“Proposition?” Harry said nervously.

“Yes, a proposition,” George said. “We would like to make you a consultant for Weasleys’ Wizarding Wheezes.”

Harry was taken aback. While he wasn’t exactly a model student, he’d never actually been all that active in the prancing scene at Hogwarts. Plus, he wasn’t sure what expertise he could contribute.

“Guys I’m... touched but... why me?”

Fred and George exchanged a look.

“Well Harry,” Fred said, “You’re talented at Defence Against the Dark Arts. I mean, last year you managed to cast a Patronus. That’s might impressive mate. You could help develop some of our products. Plus, having the Chosen One’s name tied to our business would really help jumpstart it.”

Harry was rendered speechless. It felt nice to be praised like this, though it did sting a bit for his “Chosen One” title to be brought up.

“Fred, this means a lot, that you two have such... faith in me. But I don’t think I’d have much to contribute. Also, I don’t think your mother would appreciate me helping you.”

Fred gasped, drawing back in an offended sort of way. “I’m George, not Fred,” Fred sighed melodramatically. “And of course you have a lot to contribute. Just spend some time with us ok? And don’t worry about Mum, she won’t be so upset once we’ve earned our first thousand galleons.”

“First of all, Fred, I know that you’re Fred-“ Fred’s eyebrows raised in surprise.”-and I’ll think about your offer. I just don’t want to make your mum upset.”

Business meeting concluded, they all gathered to play some exploding snap, even Hermione, who finally placed down her copy of _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 4_.

At this point, they all started to feel rather peckish. So it was a good thing that the trolley witch came around.

“Anything from the trolley dears!”

Harry got up to buy everyone some cauldron cakes to share. 

“Ten cauldron cakes please? Thanks.” Harry said, handing the trolley witch some sickles.

“Two pumpkin pasties please?” 

Harry recognised that voice. He turned to look at Cedric Diggory. Cedric spotted him and grinned widely in his direction. 

“Hey mate!” Cedric said. “Missed you when we were leaving the World Cup. Quite a mess that was. Glad you’re alright though.”

Frozen to the spot, Harry forced himself to croak out, “Yeah. Glad you’re alright too.”

“Here, dear.”

“What?” Harry said, turning to the trolley witch.

“Your cauldron cakes,” she smiled kindly, handing them to Harry.

“Oh. Right. Thanks.”

Harry clutched his cakes in his hands, still smiling awkwardly at Cedric. 

“Cedric what’s taking so long?” Cho asked, bounding up behind Cedric. “Oh, hi Harry!” she said cheerfully, waving. 

Fred peered out of the compartment door to see what was keeping Harry.

The witch handed Cedric the pumpkin pasties and both Cho and Cedric waved goodbye to Harry.

Fred narrowed his eyes.

“Anything else sweet for you dear?” the trolley witch asked, her eyes twinkling cheekily.

“Uh no thanks.” Harry said making his way back to his compartment.

While munching on their cakes, Lee asked them about the World Cup.

“I got a seat near the bottom of the stadium,” Lee mumbled, his mouth stuffed with cake. “They were about the cheapest seats my family could find.”

“Well we got a seat at the very top,” Ron said proudly. “It was the Ministers box.”

“For the first and only time, Weasley.”

Draco Malfoy had arrived. Along with him were his two henchmen, Crabbe and Goyle.

“I don’t recall inviting you to join us,” Harry said coldly.

“Weasley... what is that?” Malfoy guffawed, pointing at Pigwidgeon who was, thankfully, fast asleep. “It looks like a rat! Aww is that what it is? You missed your old pal so badly, you just picked up any old rat from the street to replace him. That’s precious.”

“Sod off Malfoy,” Fred said angrily.

“So... you lot going to enter? I think you Weasleys probably have to. Heard there’s money involved.”

“What?” George said.

“ _Are you going to enter?_ ” Malfoy repeated. “Honestly, are all Weasleys deaf _and_ dumb? I expect Potter will enter, won’t you? Being the insufferable attention seeker you are.”

“Either explain what you’re on about, or go away Malfoy,” Hermione said testily.

A grin spread across Malfoy’s face. “You don’t know... I mean, Father told me _weeks_ ago... I suppose Father does associate with very high ranking members of the Ministry. Your father probably doesn’t even know.”

Cackling, Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle left the compartment.

Fuming, Ron slammed the compartment door shut so hard, that it shattered.

“Ron,” Hermione chastised quietly. She repaired the door with a quick _”Reparo”_.

“Of course Dad associates with high ranking members of the Ministry,” Ron muttered angrily. “He does know what’s happening at Hogwarts he just didn’t tell us because he didn’t want to break the rules. Malfoy’s dad is the one in the wrong.”

“Yes, of course Ron,” Hermione reassured.

Ron’s foul mood carried on for the rest of the journey. As the Hogwarts Express drew closer to Hogsmead, Fred, George, and Lee all left to go back to their compartments.

As they all put their uniforms on, Ron was still glowering.

As the train doors opened, there was a rumble of thunder overhead. Hermione bundled Crookshanks up in her cloak, and Ron draped his robes over Pigwidgeon’s cage.

The rain beat against them as they hurried over to the horseless carriages that would take them to Hogwarts. Spotting a large figure in the distance, Harry squinted as he waved and shouted “Hi, Hagrid!”

“All righ’, Harry!” Hagrid bellowed back. “See yeh at the feats if we don’t drown!”

“Ooh I wouldn’t fancy being a first year, having to cross the lake in this weather!” Hermione shivered as they all got into a carriage. The door shut with a snap, and a few moments later, the procession of horseless carriages made their way to Hogwarts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, that was an AVPM reference.


	11. New Year, New Tournament

Harry, Ron, and Hermione scrambled out of the carriage, and dashed into the Great Hall. Just in time as well, as behind them Peeves, Hogwarts’ prankster poltergeist, was pummelling students with water balloons. 

They slipped and slid into the Great Hall and sighed in relief at the warmth that enveloped them. On their way to the Gryffindor table, they passed Draco and his lackeys, who jeered at them.

The trio took a seat next to Nearly Headless Nick, who greeted them cheerfully.

“I can’t wait for the Sorting,” he said, beaming.

“I can’t wait for the food,” Harry grumbled.

Just then, a high-pitched voice rang out from across the table. 

“Hiya Harry!”

Colin Creevey got out of his seat and ran over to Harry, smiling at him dazedly.

“Hi Colin,” Harry replied warily.

“My brothers coming to Hogwarts this year!” Colin said. “I really hope he’s in Gryffindor! Do you think you could give him your autograph? He’s wanted one for _ageeeess_.” he chirped.

“Erm. Yeah sure Colin.”

“Thanks Harry! He’ll be so happy! The Sorting will start soon. I should go. Bye Harry!” Colin said before waving and quickly turning around and jogging back to his seat.

“Careful,” Fred said. Harry turned around surprisedly, he hadn’t heard Fred and George sidle in beside Angelina Johnson. “That boy might fancy you,” Fred finished. 

“Yech!” Harry exclaimed. “No way! He’s like a baby! Besides he just thinks I’m cool because I’m the “Chosen One”.”

“If you say so,” Fred snorted, turning to George who was chatting with Angelina.

Before Harry could dwell on the weirdness of Colin fancying him, Ron tugged at his sleeve, drawing his attention to the front of the hall.

Ron squinted, examining the Professors lining the table at the front of the hall. “Who do you reckon will the be new Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor?” Ron asked.

“Dunno,” Harry answered, “But the poor chap will be gone by the end of the year. Funny though... I can’t see any new Professors.”

“Maybe they took it off the subject list?”

“No,” Hermione said curtly, examining the timetable that had been placed in front of them, “It’s listed right here. Plus why would that ask us to buy the textbook if they’d gotten rid of the subject?”

“Well maybe he’s just late then.” Ron said.

“Maybe,” Hermione sniffed, “Our Professor will be a woman. About time. And I guarantee she’ll be the best Professor we’ve ever had.”

“Well that won’t be hard. All of our Defence Professors have been rubbish. Except for Lupin. Why’d he have to go,” Ron sighed wistfully.

Ron’s stomach rumbled loudly. “Oh I wish the Sorting could start,” he moaned. Harry agreed as his stomach let out a similarly loud rumble. 

At that moment, the doors of the Great Hall slammed open, and a group of small, shivering first years wandered in soaking wet, led by Hagrid, who was easily three times their size.

The smallest boy, who was drowning in Hagrid’s moleskin coat which was wrapped around him, spotted Colin and waved excitedly at him. “I fell into the lake!” he exclaimed, looking positively delighted. Colin gave him a thumbs up.

As the first years lined up at the front of the hall, Professor McGonagall placed a ratty old hat on top of a stool, and the whole school waited with baited breath. A tear in the brim of the hat opened up, and the hat broke into song.

_“A thousand years or more ago  
When I was newly sewn,  
There lived four wizards of renown,  
Whose names are still well known:_

_Bold Gryffindor, from wild moor,  
Fair Ravenclaw, from glen,  
Sweet Hufflepuff, from valley broad,  
Shrewd Slytherin, from fen._

_They shared a wish, a hope, a dream,  
They hatched a daring plan  
To educate young sorcerers  
Thus Hogwarts School began._

_Now each of these four founders  
Formed their own house, for each  
Did value different virtues  
In the ones they had to teach._

_By Gryffindor, the bravest were  
Prized far beyond the rest;  
For Ravenclaw, the cleverest  
Would always be the best;_

_For Hufflepuff, hard workers were  
Most worthy of admission;  
And power-hungry Slytherin  
Loved those of great ambition._

_While still alive they did divide  
Their favourites from the throng,  
Yet how to pick the worthy ones  
When they were dead and gone?_

_Twas Gryffindor who found the way,  
He whipped me off his head  
The founders put some brains in me  
So I could choose instead!_

_Now slip me snug about your ears,  
I've never yet been wrong,  
I'll have a look inside your mind  
And tell where you belong!”_

Once the Sorting Hat had finished its last note, the hall erupted into thunderous applause, and the Sorting began. 

Name after name was called. They all started to blend together for Harry, who was rather desperate for his dinner.

“Creevey, Dennis!”

_”Gryffindor!”_

Dennis leapt up excitedly and scrambled over to his brother, who was cheering happily.

Finally the last name was called, a Kevin Whitby who was sorted into Hufflepuff. Ron gathered his utensils expectantly as Dumbledore got up from his seat.

“I only have two words to say to you: _Tuck in!_ ”

Before them appeared platefuls of food, stacked up high.

“Hear hear!” Harry and Ron rejoiced, tucking in.

As they stuffed their faces full of sausage, mashed potatoes, and fish, Nearly Headless Nick spoke up.

“You should be grateful,” he said, staring sadly at the food that was quickly disappearing off the table, “I do miss the taste of roast beef. Plus, it’s a miracle the food could even come out, considering the ruckus Peeves caused in the kitchen.”

“Ah I thought Peeves was a little peeved,” Harry said. “What’d he do?”

“Oh you know the usual. Spilled some soup, banged some pots and pans together. The poor house-elves were so distraught they were almost unable to finish cooking for the feast!”

_Clang!_

Hermione had knocked over her goblet. Her pumpkin juice was spreading over the table, causing outcry from a few people who had been caught in the wave, but Hermione paid them no mind. 

“There’s _house-elves_ here?” she choked out.

“Oh yes. A couple hundred I believe. Largest dwelling in Britain,” Nearly Headless Nick replied.

Hermione looked sick. She pushed her plate of shepard’s pie away. As the dinner went on, Hermione refused to take another bite of food.

“Come on Er-my-knee,” Ron mumbled, accidentally spraying Harry with Yorkshire pudding. “Oops-sorry, ‘Arry-“

“Slave labour,” Hermione said, breathing heavily. “This is what made this meal. _Slave labour._ ”

The enchanted ceiling thundered ominously as the rain continued to beat against the windows.

“Look Hermione! Treacle tart!” Ron said, wafting the smell towards her. “Spotted dick! Chocolate gateau!”

Hermione just gave him a look. A look so reminiscent of Professor McGonagall that Ron gave up.

As almost every plate in the Great Hall was polished off, Harry started to feel quite sleepy. He looked forward to heading up to his dorm and collapsing onto his bed. He placed his head on his arm and began to drift off when he was rudely jolted up by screaming. 

He looked up to the enchanted ceiling and to his horror, the ceiling had turned a pitch black, with occasional streaks of lightning shooting from it and striking down onto the tables with a shockwave.

The doors to the Great Hall slammed open and a man pointed his wand at the ceiling. A bolt of lighting shot from his wand and struck the ceiling. The ceiling flashed a blinding white, before reverting back to its original state with a high pitched wail. 

The man grunted and began walking to the front of the hall. A dull _clunk_ echoed through the hall on every other step he took. As he passed by Harry, Harry was taken aback by the sight of his face. 

A long brown cloak was draped around his shoulders. In his left hand he held a gnarled wooden walking stick. Every inch of his face was scarred, he looked like someone had cut him up into tiny little pieces, and tried to put him back together like a jigsaw puzzle. Wispy light brown hair grew out of his scalp in chunks. He was horrifying. But his eyes made him terrifying. His right eye was dark brown, and beady. But his left eye was electric blue and as round as a marble. It rolled around freely in his eye socket, attached to his head by two brown straps which wrapped around his head. It swiveled around to fix on Harry, and a chill ran up his spine.

Whispers filled the hall as the stranger stormed all the way to the front of the hall.

He reached Dumbledore and stretched out his hand. Dumbledore took it and beamed at him. “Those enchanted ceilings,” the stranger growled loudly, “Temperamental. Never really understood the purpose of them.” He sat down and picked up a sausage, sniffing it suspiciously. He then pulled out a hip-flask a took a deep swig from it. As he raised his arm, his cloak was lifted a few inches off the ground, and Harry saw, below the table, several inches of carved wooden leg, ending in a clawed foot.

“What do you reckon he’s drinking,” Seamus whispered.

“Don’t think it’s pumpkin juice,” Harry replied, still watching the strange man.

Dumbledore walked forward and smiled down at all of them.

“So! Now that we are all fed and watered, I must once more ask for you attention, while I give out a few notices. Mr Filch, the caretaker, has asked me to tell you that the list of objects forbidden inside the castle had this year been extended to include Screaming Yo-yos, Fanged Frisbees and Ever-Bashing Boomerangs. The full list comprises some four hundred and thirty-seven items, I believe, and can be viewed on Mr Filch’s office, if anybody would like to check it.”

The corners of Dumbledore’s mouth twitched upwards.

He continued, “As ever, I would like to remind you all that the Forest in the grounds is out-of-bounds to students, as is the village of Hogsmeade to all below third year. It is also my painful duty to inform you that the inter-house Quidditch Cup will not take place this year.”

 _”What?!”_ Harry gasped. He stared at Fred and George who looked equally horrified. 

As the whispers started, Dumbledore raised his hand, and silence fell over the hall.

“The Quidditch Cup will not take place this year, as Hogwarts has been chosen to host a _legendary_ event. The Triwizard Tournament!” 

“You’re JOKING!” Fred Weasley said loudly.

The tension that had filled the hall since the stranger had arrived broke.

Everybody broke out into laughter and even Dumbledore chuckled appreciatively.

“No I am _not_ joking Mr Weasley. Though I did hear a good one over the summer about a troll, a bag, and a leprechaun who all go into a bar-“

McGonagall cleared her throat.

“Er-but maybe now isn’t the time... no...” said Dumbledore. “Where was I? Ah yes, the Triwizard Tournament. Now for those of you who do not know, the Triwizard Tournament brings together three magical schools for a series of competitions. From each school, a single student is allowed to compete. It was generally agreed to be a most excellent way of establishing ties between young wizards and witches of different nationalities-until, that is, the death toll mounted so high that the Tournament was discontinued.”

 _”Death toll?”_ Hermione whispered, looking alarmed. Other students didn’t share her concern. Everyone was whispering among themselves, and Fred and George were nudging each other. Harry himself was more interested in hearing the details of the competition, than in worrying about deaths that happened hundreds of years ago.

“Now let me be clear,” Dumbledore said, an air of seriousness in his voice, “If chosen, you stand alone. And these contests are not for the faint of heart. Even though the Departments of International Magical Co-operation and Magical Games and Sports have worked very hard to ensure nobody will be in mortal danger, injury isn’t exempt. Now, I shall say another two words: Eternal glory. That’s what awaits the student who wins the Triwizard Tournament. That and 1000 galleons in prize money,” Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling behind his half-moon glasses.

“I’m going for it!” Fred Weasley hissed down the table, his eyes lit up in excitement at the prospect of the glory and gold. He wasn’t the only one. All through the hall, people were either gazing at Dumbledore in awe, or whispering fervently to their neighbours. 

“To do that,” Dumbledore continued, “The student must complete three _very_ dangerous tasks.”

“Wicked,” the twins chorused, a gleeful look in their eye.

“Now to make things safer, the Ministry has imposed a new rule. No one a day under seventeen, is permitted to join the Tournament.”

The Great Hall erupted.

Students left and right were protesting loudly. “That’s rubbish!” Fred and George yelled in unison.

“This,” Dumbledore said, raising his voice, “Is a necessary measure we feel is necessary, given that the Tournament tasks will be difficult and dangerous, whatever precautions we take, and it is highly unlikely that students below sixth and seventh year will be able to cope with them. I will be personally ensuring that no underage student hoodwinks our impartial judge into making them Hogwarts champion.” His eyes flickered over to Fred and George’s mutinous faces. “I therefore beg you not to waste your time submitting yourself if you are seventeen. The delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving in October and will remain with us for the greater part of the year. I suggest that for now, you all just focus on your studies and put the Triwizard Tournament at the back of your mind. Speaking of studies, it’s late and you have lesson tomorrow so chop chop everyone! Bedtime!”

The grumbling crowd of students filtered out of the hall and began making their way to their common rooms. 

Harry was so preoccupied with thoughts of the Tournament, that he didn’t look where he was going, and crashed into a girl. She let out a yelp as hot chocolate spilled down the front the her robe. 

“Oh I’m sorry!” Harry apologised furiously, helping her to remove her robe. “It’s alright Harry,” she spoke, with a Scottish lilt. Harry froze. It was Cho.

“Harry?” Ron said questioningly.

“You two go on ahead. I’ll help her.”

“Alright mate,” Ron said, giving Harry a look, before trudging up the stairs with Hermione. 

“I’m really sorry Cho,” Harry winced, as he desperately tried to squeeze the hot chocolate out from her robe. 

“Don’t worry about it Harry,” Cho chuckled, ill just have it washed.

Harry suddenly felt very awkward, standing in the middle of a deserted hallway with Cho, who was wearing her white blouse, which was now soaked, with hot chocolate. 

“I’ll uh... just take this back then,” Cho said, taking her robe from his hands. “Goodnight Harry!” she said, turning around and heading off to her common room.

“Uh Cho! Wait!”

“Yes?” Cho said, turning to face Harry.

“Could you uhh... Say hi to Cedric for me? I uh didn’t see him in the Great Hall.”

Cho looked puzzled. “We don’t attend the same classes Harry. We’re in different years. But if I see him around... I’ll tell him.”

“Oh yeah. Ok... uh g-goodnight Cho,” Harry stuttered, before spinning around and stomping up the stairs, feeling like quite an idiot.

As he reached the portrait of the fat lady, Harry was struck with the realisation that he had no idea what the password was, and felt like even more of a fool.

“Balderdash,” came a voice from behind him. Harry jumped. It was George. 

“Bloody hell!” Harry hissed, as the three of them walked through the portrait hole. “I will attach a bell to the both of you one day.”

“Kinky,” Fred said.

“Fred!” Harry gasped, aghast.

“Just taking the mick, mate!” Fred chortled.

“Anyway where were you?” George asked. “We thought you’d been kidnaped.”

“I just bumped into... a girl. Spilled hot chocolate on her.”

“Ah... well we wanted to chat with you,” Fred said, pulling Harry down to sit at the sofa in front of the fireplace.

“What about?” Harry questioned.

“Have you given anymore thought to our proposition?” George asked.

Harry hadn’t. 

Truth be told, the excitement of the evening had wiped any memory of Fred and George’s proposal from his mind.

“Well... uh...” Harry started awkwardly. “I... haven’t decided yet... but...”

Fred and George looked at him expectantly.

“But... I’d like to see what you have so far!”

Fred and George glanced at each other and smiled. “Sure! Why don’t you come up to our room one day. Check out the goods,” George said. “How does Saturday sound?” 

“Yeah... sounds good!”

The three of them made their way up to their dorms. But as Harry made to enter hi, Fred stopped him. 

“You gonna try to enter?” Fred asked, his eyes gleaming. 

“No. No I’ve had quite enough excitement for a lifetime. I’m looking forward to a quiet, peaceful year.” Harry said confidently.

“Alright well... how about you help _us_ enter?” Fred asked.

“... Sounds good. I’d quite like to see either one of you compete.” Harry replied.

“So would we. The prize money would be more than enough to jumpstart our business.”

Harry bid the twins goodnight and entered his dorm, to find his dorm mates already fast asleep. Harry changed quietly and got into bed.

Despite what he’d told the twins, as he dreamt, a large golden trophy swam through his mind. Adoring crowds cheered for him. In the crowd was someone with sandy blonde hair, someone with long, straight black hair, and someone, with bright, flame-red hair. Out of everyone else chanting his name, they held the most love for him, in their eyes.


	12. Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes

It was back to class for all of them. Having overslept, Harry was in a rush to get ready.

“Mate stop hogging my sink!” Harry yelled at Ron, who had also overslept and was now frantically brushing his teeth.

“‘M not hoggin’ the shink,” Ron mumbled.

“Yes you are, with you flailing your elbows around like that- Come on move! Dean’s already gone downstairs, we won’t even have time for breakfast!”

After getting ready, they met up with Hermione who was sullenly eating a slice of toast in the common room.

“Given up on your house-elf tirade have you?” Ron asked as they stepped through the portrait hole.

“No... There are just better ways to protest,” Hermione replied stiffly.

“Yeah, that and you were just hungry.”

Their first class was Herbology.

Professor Sprout greeted them with the ugliest plants Harry had ever seen. They looked like a giant black slug with measles had wormed its way into a pot of soil.

“Now class,” Professor Sprout said, “We are running a little bit late so I’m afraid there won’t be time for formalities today. This is a bubotuber. You will be collecting it’s pus today.”

“Pus?” Seamus asked, paling.

“Boob,” Ron sniggered.

They all started, squeezing the pustules to reveal a disgusting yellow liquid that smelt like petrol. By the end of the day, everyone in class had collected several bottles each, with Neville collecting the most out of all of them. Sprout sent all of them off happily remarking, “Madam Pompfrey should have enough to last _months!_ ”

They all then headed down to Hagrid’s hut for Care of Magical Creatures. As usual, Hagrid brought out the most unusual creatures. 

“Blast-ended Skrewts,” Hagrid said proudly, as he set them lose on the class.

As the class scrambled around trying to feed them squishy frog liver, Dean Thomas yelped. “ _Ouch!_ It’s got me!” He turned around to show Hagrid a nasty burn on his hand. 

“Ah yes...” Hagrid said worriedly. “That happens when they blast off... Don’t worry come around to me shed. Got somethin’ that’ll help.”

It’s wasn’t long after Hagrid and Dean left, that a familiar drawling voice said behind them, “Hey Weaselbee, saw your dad in the paper.”

“Shove off Malfoy,” Ron retorted.

“Heard he absolutely cocked up with Mad-eye. Caused a lot of problems,” Malfoy cackled.

Ron seethed quietly. 

“But then again, having a bumbling fool like him for a Father, you must be used to it by now,” Malfoy sneered. “Oh look! There’s even a picture of your parents. Tell me Weasley, is your mother as fat in real life?”

“Does your mother always look like she’s got dung under her nose?” Harry snapped. “Or was that just because you were around?”

Malfoy glared at Harry, his eyes roving up and down. “I see you’re not wearing that stupid broomstick necklace anymore. Did your girlfriend break up with you? Ah. I bet it was the female Weasley. Finally saw you weren’t so great and ditched you for someone else huh?”

“If it’s a fight you want Malfoy, you can have it,” Harry hissed. “Just remember the black eye we gave you last time.”

Malfoy looked nervously at the Slytherins behind him. Clearly he hadn’t told them about their forest brawl during the riot at the World Cup. 

At that moment, Hagrid returned with Dean in tow, clutching his wounded arm.

With one last reproachful glare, Malfoy slinked back to his friends.

“All righ’ i guess that’s all for today,” Hagrid said. “Lovely creatures aren’t they!”

Next up, was Divination.

“Not looking forward to this,” Harry groaned.

“Well, that’s why you should have chosen Arithmetic, like me,” Hermione said, as she parted from Ron and Harry on the stairwell.

As usual, Professor Trelawney’s class put everyone to sleep. Except of course, Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil, who stared at Professor Trelawney raptly.

As Harry dozed off, soothed by the warm atmosphere in the classroom and the strong perfume, he had a dream.

Hedwig was soaring through the air, her white feathers ruffling in the wind. On her back was Sirius. He was clean shaven, and had a joyful glint in his eye. Then a dark shape, twisting and writhing shot into the sky. It wrapped around Hedwig and Sirius and pulled them down. Down, down, down.

A voice, cold and sharp hissed out, _”Harry, Harry, Harry”_

“Harry!” Professor Trelawney said, slapping her hand on the table.

Harry jolted up. Professor Trelawney was gazing at him intently with her big, big eyes. 

“My boy, what was your dream about?” she asked. “You had this look of... such terror.”

“I fell off my broom,” Harry said.

She nodded gravely. “My boy I’m afraid I have bad news. A prophecy came to me. _What you fear the most, shall soon come to pass._ ”

“Right. I’ll take note of that.”

Lavender Brown suddenly squealed loudly. “I think I have an unsuspecting planet Professor! What is it?”

“Ah it’s Uranus, dear,” Professor Trelawney answered.

“Can I look at Uranus too Lavender?” Ron asked.

As they all streamed out of the classroom, Ron and Harry laughed to themselves.

“Typical,” Ron joked, “First day back and shes already predicting your demise.”

“You know the day she doesn’t say something awful about my future, is the day we know something’s truly wrong,” Harry chuckled. “And I can’t believe you said that to Lavender!”

They strolled down to the Great Hall where Hermione was waiting.

As they found themselves a table, Ron and Harry gave themselves stitches from laughing while they told Hermione about all that had happened in Divination. 

“Ron I cant believe you said that!” Hermione shouted, scandalised.

“Can’t believe he said what?” George asked as he and his twin sat beside the trio.

“He said he wanted to see Lavender’s Uranus,” Harry chortled, wiping tears from the corners of his eyes.

“Really Ron?” Fred said, raising his eyebrows. “Didn’t take you for that kind of man.”

“Shut up. The both of you,” Ron mumbled. “It’s a lot less funny when you two are in on it. Hey Hermione where are you going?”

Hermione had stood up after stuffing her meatloaf in her mouth. 

“‘M heading to the library,” she said.

“Already? Don’t tell me Professor Vector already gave you homework.”

“Nope,” she said simply, before scurrying off.

“She’s really a different breed isn’t she,” Fred said, staring as Hermione disappeared out of the hall. “Anyway, Harrikins how was your day?”

“I’m right here,” Ron scowled.

Fred ignored him.

“Well things were pretty normal,” Harry said. “Draco was an arse, Trelawney made a death premonition. The usual.”

Fred smiled widely at Harry and it felt like Harry’s stomach did a flip.

“Yeah Draco said some rubbish things about Mum and Dad,” Ron said angrily. “He also said something about a necklace Harry had. Don’t remember you wearing a necklace,” Ron said, staring curiously at Harry.

Harry met Fred’s eye and quickly looked away. Ron stared curiously at the two of them.

“Well we had Moody today,” George said. “He’s amazing.”

“Yeah,” Lee said, coming over, “You can just tell.”

“Tell what?” Harry asked puzzled. 

“That he’s really been out there,” Lee said, his eyes gleaming. “That he’s actually hunted down dark wizards before. You’ll see.”

Ron grabbed his timetable and groaned. “We haven’t got him till next Thursday!”

“Don’t worry, you’ll get him soon enough,” George said, ruffling Ron’s hair as he stood up.

Fred made to leave as well but paused, “Oh yeah Harry, don’t forget. Tomorrow, in our room at 10.” He smiled at Harry again and turned to leave, following George and Lee.

“What,” Ron said, dumbfounded. “Why’re you meeting them? In their _room_?”

“It’s nothing Ron. Really.”

The two of them finished up their dinner and headed back to their dorm.

As Harry climbed into bed, he heard Ron’s voice. 

“Harry... If you were bent... you’d tell me right?”

“Y-yeah of course,” Harry stuttered. “I’m not. Bent that is.”

“...Yeah. Goodnight Harry.”

“Night Ron.”

And Harry closed his eyes and tried to sleep, drowning out his thoughts about Ron’s question with wondrous images of the things Fred and George would show him tomorrow. Harry fell asleep with Fred’s smile, swimming into his view.

Harry awoke to snoring.

He pried his eyes open and squinted at the sunlight streaming through the curtains. Turning to look at the clock beside his bed, he realised it was already nine fifty. 

He silently dressed and snuck a peek at his dorm mates. Neville and Ron were still snoring and Dean and Seamus were no where in sight. _“Must’ve gone down to the library,”_ Harry thought to himself.

He snuck out of the room, careful not to wake his friends up, and climbed up the stairs of the Gryffindor tower.

Fred and George’s room was only a few levels up from him and Ron’s. He remembered visiting them in their room in his second year, after Ginny got taken.

He reached their door and nervously knocked on it. Immediately the door swung open.

“Hiya Harrikins!” Fred grinned at him. “Please, step into our office.” Fred bent into a bow and swept Harry into the room.

It was neater than expected. 

The room looked very similar to Harry’s, four-post beds with red draping, scarlet curtains, and dark brown closets and dressing tables. Only big difference was there were four beds instead of five. 

“Hi Harry!” George greeted, getting up from his bed.

“Lee and Kenneth are playing Quidditch so it’s just gonna be the three of us,” Fred said.

He walked over to the corner of the room and whispered something quietly. With a _pop_ a pile of colourful boxes, and vials appeared.

“Woah,” Harry said, staring in awe.

There were purple sugar coated sweets, cream filled buns, hats, strange contraptions, and so much more. 

“So uhh... what do you think?” Fred asked nervously.

“It’s brilliant!” Harry exclaimed. “How’d you create all this stuff.”

As Harry squatted down to pick up a powdery orange marble, Fred said, “Well we’ve been working on this stuff since our first year. We could’ve created a lot more if it weren’t for that prat Kenneth. The tattler.”

“What’s this do?” Harry asked, holding up the orange marble. 

“Ah that’s our Blood Blisterpod,” George answered. “It makes you have a nosebleed. But we’ve been having trouble with the formula. Hardens after a few hours,” George frowned. “Completely inedible.”

“Wicked,” Harry said. “So show me the rest of your goods.”

And so Fred and George excitedly grabbed their products and explained what each one was. Harry was taken aback by the creativity Fred and George had. They had everything from bruise vanishing cream, to hair brushes that could change the colour of your hair.

“I mean,” Harry said, “It seems like the two of you have got everything figured out. What’d you need me for?”

Fred and George exchanges a glance. “Well Harry,” George said, “We’re planning on branching out. There’s always going to be danger in the world so we thought it would be good to have a line of products for that. A line of products, that you would produce. With us.” 

That wasn’t at all what Harry had expected. He thought he’d just be giving Fred and George a few tips here and there, not that he’d be in charge of creating his own products.

“You know what,” George said, eyeing Fred, “I’m going to go downstairs. Need to use the bathroom.”

“You’ve got a bathroom right here,” Harry said, puzzled, pointing to their bathroom.

“Well... I like the one downstairs better.”

George turned on his heel and strode out of the room, leaving Fred and Harry alone.

“Harry you’re good at Defence Against the Dark Arts,” Fred said abruptly. “You took down a bloody troll your first year.”

“W-well I had Ron and Hermione with me,” Harry stuttered.

“You could cast a Patronus in your third year! Most grown adults can’t do that!”

Harry didn’t know what to respond to that. 

“If you don’t want to do this Harry... we understand. I just want you to know that you are talented. You’d make a killer Defence teacher one day,” Fred said softly.

Without thinking, Harry blurted out, “Ok. I’ll do it.”

Fred’s eyes lit up. 

“Thank you Harry,” he gasped, pulling Harry into a tight hug.

Fred gripped Harry tightly, and Harry closed his eyes and snuggled closer. Fred smelt warm, like gunpowder and cinnamon. Fred drew away and Harry reluctantly leaned back. He was aware his face was bright red. 

“Well uhh... I’ve got to go... Get breakfast,” Harry stumbled over his words. “Tell George I say bye.”

Harry dashed out of the room, cringing at himself. He walked down to the Great Hall, his awkward behaviour replaying in his head, when he spotted a familiar face.

“Cedric?”

The Hufflepuff stopped in his tracks and looked around confusedly, before spotting Harry.

“Hi Harry!” Cedric smiled widely as he walked over to Harry. “Cho said you wanted to say hi to me. How’re your classes?”

Harry laughed uncomfortably at the memory of him running into Cho. “Alright I suppose,” Harry said. “Professor Trelawney gave us a ton of homework. Probably won’t be able to finish it.”

Cedric nodded sympathetically. “Yeah my dorm mates took her class as well.”

“Well... it was really nice seeing you Cedric,” Harry smiled. “I won’t disturb you anymore, bye!”

“Bye Harry! Nice seeing you too,” Cedric waved goodbye and walked off. 

Harry walked into the Great Hall, feeling strangely light.


	13. Three Curses, Four Words

The next few days went by in a rush. The morning after accepting Fred and George’s offer, Harry had hastily scribbled a note to them, apologising for his abrupt exit and assuring them that he’d start working on products immediately.

Harry had never felt more unproductive in his life. No matter what he tried, he could not, for the life of him, come up with an idea. After a three hour brainstorming session on Tuesday, Harry gave up and went to bed quite miserably. The last thing Harry wanted to do, was disappoint Fred and George. But maybe Harry just had to accept that he wasn’t as creative, or as skilled as Fred and George. But Harry wasn’t quite ready to count himself out. He was having his first Defence Against the Dark Arts class on Thursday, and he was truly hoping it would give him some inspiration.

Thursday came. All of the fourth years were so eager for Moody’s first lesson, that they’d queued up outside his classroom ten minutes before the bell even rung.

The only person who wasn’t present, was Hermione, who came dashing, looking very frazzled.

“I didn’t hear the bell,” she huffed. “I was in the-“

“-Library,” Harry finished. “C’mon let’s get in so we get some decent seats.”

As they settled down, they heard Moody’s clunking footsteps, signalling his entrance in the classroom.

“Put that away,” he growled at Hermione, who had taken out her textbook. Hermione gazed puzzledly at Harry and Ron.

Moody reached the Teachers table and leaned against it, his blue eye swiveling around in its socket, fixing each student with a piercing stare.

“So I’ve checked in with Professor Lupin,” he growled, “You’ve done a lot of work on magical creatures, but you are severely lacking in your knowledge on curses. I only have a year to remedy that, so I suggest all of you make the most of class time-You really should put that away Miss Brown.”

Lavender jumped and flushed bright red. She’d been showing Parvati her completed horoscope under the table.

Carrying on, Moody said, “Constant vigilance! A Dark wizard won’t wait for you to pay attention, before killing you! Now straight into it, curses-“

“Sir, why’re you only staying for a year?” Ron blurted out.

Moody’s eye spun to focus on Ron. A moment of silent contemplation filled the room, before the corners of Moody’s mouth quirked up in what seemed to be a semblance of a smile.

“You’ll be Arthur Weasley’s son, eh?” he said. “I owe your Father. He got me out of a tight spot a few days ago... Yeah I’ll only be staying for a year... A favour for Dumbledore, one year then I’m leaving. Now... if that’s all, I’d quite like to get this class started,” he said firmly.

Moody turned to the board and began scribbling furiously. “When it comes to the Dark Arts, I prefer a practical approach. The Ministry doesn’t want me to teach you this, they think you’re too young. Nonsense if you ask me! The sooner you learn, the better! You can’t defend yourself from a threat you don’t recognise!”

He finished writing and spun back around to face them. On the board he had messily scrawled, _”Unforgivable Curses.”_

“Now, how many Unforgivable Curses are there?”

Hermione raised her hand tentatively. “Three, sir.”

“And why are they called Unforgivable Curses?”

“Because... they are unforgivable. The use of them will-“

“-Earn you a one way ticket to Azkaban,” Moody snarled, punctuating every syllable with a stroke of chalk on the board. He stepped away.

The word “Azkaban” had been scratched into the board and underlined heavily.

“Now this first one, _Imperio_ ,” Moody said, taking out a jar containing one large spider, “Anyone know what this one does?”

Ron shakily raised his hand. “It... controls people’s minds? I... heard my Father talk about it.”

“Yes,” Moody said grimly, “This spell caused a lot of trouble for the Ministry back in the day. Let me show you why.”

He took the spider out of it’s jar and pointed his wand at it. _”Imperio,”_ he whispered.

The spider immediately perked up, and jumped onto Dean and Seamus’ desk. They tensed up and slowly backed away as the spider made its way across their table and leapt onto Ron’s head.

Ron froze and let out a whimper. “Don’t worry,” Moody reassured, “She’s not lethal. Unless she bites you that is.”

Malfoy let out a loud howl of laughter. Moody immediately fixed his gaze on him.

“What’re you laughing at boy!”

The spider immediately leapt from Ron’s head to Malfoy’s face. Harry clapped his hands gleefully as he watched Malfoy shake his head furiously in an attempt to get the spider off him.

“Fun isn’t it!” Moody cackled. “What should I do next? Make her jump out of the window?”

The spider leapt to the edge of the window sill, and the class fell silent, even Malfoy who was still shaking with rage.

“Drown herself?” Moody whispered as the spider crawled over to a bucket and dangled itself over the ledge.

It was grotesque.

The spiders body tried to fight the curse, contorting in all different directions to try to escape its imminent doom. Harry wondered what it would feel like. Not to be the spider, but to be Moody. Holding someone’s life in his hands. Being able to make them do all manner of terrible things. For a second, Harry saw Voldemort in the place of the spider. He imagined Voldemort’s body twisting and writing painfully. Harry wondered if Voldemort would scream.

Harry’s image of Voldemort disappeared as the spider returned to Moody’s palm.

“The Imperius curses can be fought, and I’ll be teaching you how. But it takes real strength of character, and not everyone’s got it. Better avoid being hit with it if you can. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!” he barked, making everyone jump.

“Now,” Moody said, “Give me another curse.”

“The Cruciatus Curse,” Neville said smally.

“Longbottom is it?” Moody asked quietly.

Neville nodded.

“To be able to properly demonstrate his curse, she needs to be a bit bigger.”

He pointed his wand at the spider and whispered, _”Engorgio”_. The spider swelled up to twice the size of a tarantula, and Ron drew back nervously.

Moody raised his wand again, pointed it at the spider, and muttered, “Crucio!”

The spider’s legs bent in on it self. It curled up into a ball and began to shake uncontrollably. If Harry thought the spider had been in pain before, it must’ve been in agony now.

The spider was silent as it twitched, but Harry was sure that if it could, it would be wailing.

Moody kept his wand pointed at the spider, his gaze unflinching. The spider started to shudder and jerk more violently-

“Stop it!” Hermione said shrilly.

Harry looked at her. Her eyes weren’t fixed on the spider, but rather at Neville, who had gone pale and was shaking.

Moody finally lifted his wand. The spider stilled, though it’s legs still twitched. _”Reducio,”_ he whispered. The spider shrunk back down to its original size.

“Pain, can make someone do anything. That was a popular one. One last curse. Two words. Any guesses?”

 _”Avada Kedavra,”_ Hermione whispered, her voice shaky.

Moody brandished his wand above his head and snarled, _”Avada Kedavra!”_

A bright green flash lit up the classroom, and a gust of wind burst in, ruffling Harry’s hair. When the light faded, the spider lying motionless on the table, belly up.

A chill went up Harry’s spine. Was that what happened to his parents? A green flash and just like that, they were dead. Harry thought back to his second year and with cold understanding, realised that Lucius Malfoy had been on the cusp of casting the Killing Curse on him, before Dobby intervened. Not for the first time, Harry felt grateful to Dobby.

Gazing at the carcass of the spider, Harry pondered if there was a way to bottle the life inside of himself. Use it to protect others from the curse, just like he had been protected.

As if Moody read his mind, he said, “No one has survived the Killing Curse, except one.”

Moody fixed both his eyes on Harry, and Harry could feel the rest of the class follow suit. He turned down to stare at his table, resolutely trying not to turn red.

“Avada Kedavra’s a curse that needs a powerful bit of magic behind it-you could all get your wands out now and point them at me and say the words. I doubt I’d get as much as a nose-bleed. But that doesn’t matter. I’m not here to teach you how to do the Unforgivable Curses. Now, if there’s no counter-curse, why am I showing you? _Because you’ve got to know._ You don’t want to find yourself in a situation where you’re facing it. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!” he roared, and the whole class jumped again.

“This is what you’re up against. I’m going to teach you to fight. Get out your quills... copy this down...”

The rest of the class was spent taking notes on the Unforgivable Curses. The whole time, Harry was distracted, thinking if it were possible to replicate the effects of the Unforgivable Curses. Or perhaps, to even protect from them. Harry had found his perfect Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes project.

As the students streamed out of the class, a torrent of chit chat bursting forth, Harry’s mind was elsewhere. How would Harry replicate the effects of those curses? He’d have to learn how to cast them first.

 _”Just ask Professor Moody how to cast them,”_ Harry thought to himself. _”Just say that you’re curious.”_

“Hurry up,” Hermione said tensely.

“The ruddy Library again?” Ron groaned.

“No. Neville.”

Neville was standing in the middle of a passage, blankly staring at a wall.

“Neville?” Hermione said gently.

Neville glanced at them.

“Oh. Hello,” Neville said, his voice an octave higher than it typically was. “I’m- I’m starving. I wonder what’s for dinner.”

Neville are you ok?”

“Yes- yes of course. Very interesting dinner- I mean lesson. I wonder what’s for eating,” Neville gabbled.

Ron looked at Harry alarmedly.

“Neville what-?”

Moody’s clunking footsteps signalled his arrival.

“Come on sonny,” Moody growled, in a much more gentle voice than he typically used. “We can have tea in my office.”

Neville looked helplessly at Harry as he was led away. Harry shrugged his shoulders confusedly at Neville.

Moody paused and turned to Harry, “I know it’s harsh. But you have to know.” He fixed Harry with one last steely glance, before leaving with Neville, his footsteps getting more and more distant.

“What the bloody hell was that about?” Ron asked, gawping at the direction Neville and Professor Moody left in.

“No idea,” Hermione said pensively.

They made their way to the Great Hall and ate their dinner silently, and Hermione left to the Library while Ron and Harry went back to the Gryffindor dorm to finish their divination homework.

As they entered their dorm room, they found Neville sitting on his bed, reading a thick book.

“Neville? How are you?” Harry asked tentatively.

“Much better,” Neville said, looking up. While his face wasn’t as pale as it was, his eyes were now red rimmed. “Professor Moody gave me this book. He said that Professor Sprout told him I was good in Herbology,” Neville said, his face shining with pride.

“Well, we’re glad you’re feeling better Neville,” Harry said. “We’re gonna go down and finish up our Divination homework.”

They waved goodbye to Neville and went downstairs to lounge on the couch.

An hour in and they’d barely got anything done.

“Alright mate,” Ron sighed, “Time to just start making stuff up.”

“Yeah,” Harry yawned, stretching. “I can barely understand this chart.”

Ron dipped his pen into some ink and started to write.

“Next Monday,” he said as he scribbled, “I am likely to develop a cough, owing to the unlucky conjunction of Mars and Jupiter.” He looked up at Harry. “You know her-just put in loads of misery, she’ll lap it up.”

“Right,” Harry said crumpling up his first attempt and tossing it over his shoulder into the fire. “Ok... on Monday I will... lose something precious and I will be... in danger of burns.”

“Yeah, you will be,” Ron said darkly, “we’re seeing the Skrewts again on Monday. Ok, in a few years I’ll... erm...”

“Make the wrong moral choice?”

“Yeah that sounds good. Because of erm... let me just say Mercury. Why don’t you lose a loved one to mortal peril?”

“Ooh yeah I’ll say that’ll happen in a few months. Yeah... Cool... because... Venus is in the twelfth house.”

“And in a few months I’ll have a horrible realisation about myself,” Ron said scribbling.

“Aaah, I was gonna write that,” Harry sighed.

“Oh don’t worry you can have that,” Ron said, scratching out his words. “I’ll just say I’ll lose a bet.”

This continued on for another hour, their predictions getting more and more tragic.

Harry looked around the common room trying to find something else tragic to write about, when his eyes landed on Fred.

He was huddled together with George, poring over a piece of parchment. Fred’s brow was knotted, and Harry worried about what was wrong. He ached to reach over, and smooth the frown from his face. Harry wondered if it was about ageing themselves up to enter the Triwizard Tournament.

As Harry looked on, George shook his head at Fred and scratched out something on the piece of parchment. “We can’t say that. We sound like we’re accusing him.”

Then, George looked over and spotted Harry watching them. Harry grinned shyly and quickly turned back to his parchment. He didn’t want them to think he was spying on them and being creepy.

Shortly after that, Fred and George rose to their feet, and said goodnight to Ron and Harry. As Fred left he lightly placed his hand on Harry’s shoulder. As Harry watched Fred disappear up the stairs, the spot on his shoulder Fred had touched, burned.

A few minutes after Fred and George left, Hermione climbed through the portrait hole.

“Just finished!” she said proudly, waving a piece of parchment.

“So did we,” Ron said.

As Hermione sat down to read their work, a frown crossed her face.

“Both of you having a rough few years?” Hermione said skeptically.

“Yep!” Ron said.

“Don’t you think it’s obvious you made it up? Harry you said a loved one would be in mortal peril three different times!”

“Well I doubt Trelawney would care. She just likes all the sad stuff.”

There was a pause before Hermione broke the silence. “Well aren’t you going to ask me what I did?”

“It has to do with the house-elves right?” Ron sighed.

“Yes,” Hermione said, opening her roll of parchment. “I’ve been researching in the Library elf enslavement’s gone back centuries. I created an organisation. S.P.E.W. Stands for the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare. All you need to do to join, is pay two Sickles. You get a badge as well.” Hermione took a green badge out of her pocket. On it, was: S.P.E.W.

“For the last time Hermione,” Ron said exasperatedly, “They _like_ being enslaved!”

As Hermione and Ron bickered, Harry’s attention drifted to the window. To his surprise, a snowy white owl was perched on the window sill. She had been tapping at the glass angrily, but Harry hadn’t heard her over Ron and Hermione’s argument.

“Hedwig!” Harry exclaimed, launchin himself off the sofa to the window. He opened the window and Hedwig swooped in.

“About time!” Harry exclaimed.

“She’s got an answer!” Ron said excitedly.

Harry hastily untied the parchment from Hedwig’s leg and sat down to read it.

“What does it say?” Hermione asked breathlessly.

The letter was short, and looked like it had been written in a hurry. Harry read it out loud:

_Harry-  
I’m flying north immediately. This news about your scar is the latest in a series of strange rumours that have reached me here. If it hurts again, go straight to Dumbledore- they’re saying he’s got Mad-eye out of retirement, which means he’s reading the signs, even if no one else is.  
I’ll be in touch soon. My best to Ron and Hermione. Keep your eyes open, Harry.  
Sirius_

Harry looked up at Hermione and Ron.

“He’s coming _back_?” Hermione gasped.

“What signs is Dumbledore reading?” Ron said, perplexed.

Harry got up angrily, jostling Hedwig who was in his lap.

“I shouldn’t’ve told him!”

“Mate, what’re on about?”

“If Harry comes back and gets caught, it’s my fault! There’s nothing even wrong! Hedwig I have no food for you! Go to the Owlery,” Harry snapped.

Hedwig gave Harry an offended look and took off through the open window, cuffing Harry around the head with her outstretched wing.

“I’m going to bed,” Harry said shortly.

Upstairs, Harry pulled his pyjamas on. He climbed into his bed and forced his eyes shut, even though he didn’t feel remotely tired. Trying to distract himself from Sirius, Harry thought about the ways he could apply the Unforgivable Curses to prank store items. Excruciatingly sour candy infused with the Cruciatus Curse? Persuasive powder that could allow you to influence someone? Abra Cadabra playing cards that can protect the user from the Killing Curse?

Harry’s tactic worked. As Harry pondered, he was so distracted that he didn’t notice that he only heard one pair of snores, Ron’s. Which meant that he wasn’t the only lying awake.


	14. Special Visitors

The next morning, Harry stirred with a vague memory of him passing a bright red box to Fred and George, who accepted in awe. As Harry blinked the sleep out of his eyes, he was rather disappointed to realise that he’d been dreaming. Scratching his head, Harry was trying to remember what had bothered him so much the night before.

It hit him like a sack of bricks. _”Oh Sirius...”_ Harry groaned.

Harry scrambled to scribble down a letter to Sirius, begging him not to come, and went to the Owlery to send it off.

As he sullenly ate some toast in the Great Hall, Hermione berated him angrily.

“Why’d you tell him you imagined you scar hurt?” Hermione asked sharply. “That’s a _lie_ and you know it!”

“Well I don’t want to responsible for him going back to Azkaban!” Harry snapped.

“Drop it Hermione,” Ron warned.

Hermione turned back to her book indignantly and buried her face in it.

“Well what class do we have later?” Harry asked, trying to distract himself from looking at the owls swooping into the Great Hall.

“Defence Against the Dark Arts,” Hermione answered.

Harry felt his spirits lift. This was his chance to ask Moody. All he had to do was wait until after the lesson, pretend he needed help with some schoolwork, and try to find out all he could about bottling the power of the three Curses.

As it turns out, Moody was taking the practical lessons one step further anyway.

“B-but Professor Moody,” Hermione stuttered, “The Unforgivable Curses are illegal. You can’t seriously consider casting them on us!”

“Miss Granger if you’d rather experience them when someone wants to control you,” Professor Moody snarled, “You are welcome to leave,” he finished, pointed a gnarled finger at the door.

Hermione turned pink and lowered her head.

And so the students lined up, all of them having the Imperius Curse placed on them.

Neville leapt into the air and did a split, Dean hopped around the classroom, and Ron crawled on the floor before pouncing onto a table. Nobody seemed able to fight the Curse off.

Finally it was Harry’s turn. As Moody cast the curse on him, something that can only be described as pure and utter bliss, washed over Harry.

Suddenly, echoing in the distant reaches of his brain, he heard Moody say: _Jump on the table... jump on the table..._

That, Harry decided, sounded like a fantastic idea.

He bent his knees as he prepared to jump onto the table.

Just then another voice in his brain piped up.

Don’t jump on the table, it said. That’s stupid.

_Jump on the table..._

No, the voice said more firmly, don’t jump on the table.

Harry made a split second decision, and ended up diving head first into the table.

“Brilliant!” Moody rejoiced, hoisting Harry up and slapping him on the back roughly.

Harry smiled weakly as his head spun.

“Wasn’t the best, but it’s a start Potter!”

As Moody started clapping enthusiastically, the class joined in, rather lacklusterly. Ron rubbed at his knees with a painterly expression on his face.

As the class filed out for lunch, Harry stayed behind, under the guise of packing his bags.

Once the class was deserted, Harry nervously approached Moody, who had his back turned to him.

“Relax Potter, I don’t bite,” Moody growled.

“Right... yes...” Harry mumbled as Moody turned around to face him.

“What can I help you with Potter?” Moody said. His face contorted, and the skin above his left eye brow wrinkled like a piece of old paper. Harry realised Moody had quirked his eyebrow at him.

“Well... I was wondering if you could teach me more about the Unforgivable Curses?”

“Ah yes! Of course... Lupin did tell me you had a great passion for the subject! Talented too. Definitely proved that today... Though of course you could always use some work-“

“-That’s not exactly why I’m here sir... I was thinking about... If you could maybe teach me to cast them...”

Moody’s forehead uncrinkled and he stared at Harry blankly for a second. His blue eye wobbled limply.

“Why?” he finally growled. “Is this about You-know-who? Potter, you should know that any far fetched ideals you have about defeating You-know-who are just that. Far fetched ideals.”

“What? No!” Harry felt dumbstruck. He’d never thought that this was the conclusion someone would come to about him. Well, to be fair he had gone on a bit of a rampage last year when he thought Sirius had got his parents killed. But still...

“I’m just curious... Honest...” Harry lied. No way he was telling a Professor about Fred and George’s business, and Harry’s own involvement in it.

“Well Potter...” Moody said, eyeing Harry suspiciously, “What I can tell you, is that it takes great power to both resist, and cast an Unforgivable Curse.”

Harry, getting quite frustrated with the vagueness, said, “Yes but how _exactly_ would one resist or cast an Unforgivable Curse.”

Something that seemed like intrigue flashed over Moody’s face, before it schooled itself back to it’s stony expression.

“You should know better than anyone how to resist an Unforgivable Curse,” Moody said quietly. “After all, your Mother saved you from the Killing Curse.”

Harry was rendered speechless. Nobody had ever mentioned his Mother had been the one to save him from Voldemort’s fatal curse.

“How’d she do it?” he asked breathlessly.

“Love.”

Feeling slightly underwhelmed, Harry let out an “Oh.”

“Now love is not something to be joked about,” Moody growled. “It took down the most powerful wizard who lived.”

Starting to get a bit frustrated, Harry smiled placatingly at Moody, before slowly inching away.

“Thanks Professor, got what I needed. Bye,” Harry said before brisk walking out of the classroom. As he threw one last glance over his shoulder, Harry noticed Professor Moody watching him leave, both eyes fixed on him. Harry left as fast as he could.

As he walked down to the Great Hall to grab whatever lunch he could, he noticed people crowding around the entrance.

“What is it?” he asked Hermione and Ron, who were a part of the crowd.

“Where’ve you been mate!” Ron asked.

“Just... talking to Moody. Anyway what is it?”

Harry pushed his way to the front and read the piece of paper that everyone was crowded around.

_Triwizard Tournament_

_Hogwarts is delighted to announce the arrival of delegates from Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, and Durmstrang Institute of Magical Learning on the 30th of October at 6 o’clock. Lessons will end half an hour early. Students will return their bags and books to their dormitories and assemble in front of the castle to greet our guests before the Welcoming Feast._

“That’s only a few days away!” Cedric chirped up beside Harry. Harry jumped, he hadn’t noticed Cedric standing beside him. Harry had no idea how, considering the older boy towered over the rest of the crowd, his sandy blonde hair peeking over the other heads in the crowd.

“So, you planning on entering?” Harry asked.

“Yeah. I’m of age so why not?” Cedric grinned.

“Well... I heard it’s a bit dangerous, isn’t it?”

“Can’t be more dangerous than Quidditch!”

The pair laughed.

“Well if I do get chosen as the Hogwarts champion, I trust that you’ll support me,” Cedric said, raising his eyebrows at Harry.

“O-of course,” Harry chuckled. Cedric smiled at Harry, his eyes twinkling.

“Well, if you manage to enter illegally and get chosen, I’ll support you. Sounds about fair.”

“Yeah, sounds good,” Harry said, beaming up at Cedric.

“Well I’d best be off, or Snape will have my head!”

Cedric waved goodbye to Harry and squeezed his way out of the crowd. Harry followed in suit, jostling the crowd as he pushed his way out.

“Did I hear you talking to Cedric?” Ron asked.

“Yeah,” Harry replied. “He’s planning on entering.”

“That bumbling fool?” Ron scoffed. “He’ll disgrace Hogwarts.”

“He’s not that bad,” Hermione argued. “He’s quite brave.”

“You only like him because he’s handsome!” Ron said scathingly.

“No! I just think he could do well in the Tournament. Besides he’s not _that_ handsome. Right Harry?”

Harry didn’t answer. He didn’t want to admit that he thought that Cedric’s tousled dark blonde hair, piercing blue eyes, chiseled jaw, and imposing height made him quite attractive to Harry. Thus, he remained mum, staring very intently at a mole on his hand.

Over the next few days, everyone at Hogwarts seemed to only have one topic of conversation: the Triwizard Tournament.

Everyone was talking about who would enter, what the tasks were, and what the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students would be like.

The Teachers also seemed particularly on edge.

Professor McGonagall looked on the brink of tears when Neville accidentally transplanted his ears onto a cactus.

“Mr Longbottom _please_ do not reveal to anyone from Durmstrang that you can’t even perform a Simple Switching spell!”

On the morning of the thirtieth, Harry, Hermione, and Ron made their way down to the Great Hall for breakfast and found it spectacularly decorated. The banners of each house decorated the sides of the hall, and a Hogwarts banner was draped over the wall at the front of the hall.

Harry spotted Fred and George, and led Ron and Hermione towards them. They were, once again, conversing in low voices.

“It’s a bummer all right,” George was saying gloomily to Fred. “But if he won’t talk to us in person, we’ll have to send him the letter after all. Or we’ll stuff it into his hand, he can’t avoid us for ever.”

Feeling a small stab of jealousy, Harry sat down beside them loudly.

“What’s a bummer?” Harry asked, a big smile forced on his face.

“Oh nothing,” Fred said smoothly. “Especially now that you’re here Harrikins,” he ended off, a cheesy smile plastered on his face.

Harry snorted loudly, but that twinge of jealousy still plucked at his heart.

“So you two got any ideas about trying to enter?” Ron asked.

“McGonagall won’t tell us how the champions are chosen,” George said bitterly. “She just told me to shut up and just get on with Transfiguring my raccoon.”

“Well knowing you two,” Hermione said, “You’ll come up with some half-baked plan, that’ll end up failing. I suggest you two don’t even try, to save yourself the effort.”

As Fred and George gasped offendedly, Harry glanced up at the ceiling, bathed in golden autumn light, and spotted a white speck circling.

Harry pretended to busy himself with his French toast, and once he was sure that Fred and George were absorbed with sullenly eating their sausages, Harry beckoned Hedwig down.

She swooped onto the table and nibbled affectionately at Harry’s hand, as he untied a piece of parchment from her leg.

Harry quietly read out the letter to Ron and Hermione.

_Nice try, Harry._  
_I’m back in the country and we’ll hidden. I want you to keep me posted on everything that’s going on at Hogwarts. Don’t use Hedwig, keep changing owls, and don’t worry about me, just watch out for yourself. Don’t forget what I said about your scar._  
_Sirius_

Harry felt conflicted as he rolled the piece of parchment up and placed it in his bag. On the one hand, he was glad that Sirius had made it into the country safely. But on the other hand, now Sirius was in more danger than ever.

Hermione, reading Harry’s expression, consoled him.

“Don’t worry Harry, I’m sure Sirius is fine. He’s survived this long.”

Harry merely nodded as he stuffed the last bit of his French toast in his mouth.

“Thanks girl,” Harry said to Hedwig, stroking her fondly. She dipped her beak into his orange juice, before taking off.

As Hermione and Ron got to their feet, Harry waved them on.

“You go on first. I want to have a word with Fred and George.”

“Seriously what is going on!” Ron burst out. “Please don’t tell me you’re buggering one of them. Or... no... not both of them-?”

“Ron no!” Harry said embarrassedly, his face burning. “Since you are so curious, I’m just helping them with their business ok!”

“Oh... is that really it... Why didn’t you tell us?”

“Well I wasn’t sure if they wanted me to tell you.”

“Well... alright then. See you in a bit mate.”

Ron and Hermione left, leaving Harry who clumsily slid closer to Fred and George.

“Wow Harry did you tell Ron we were buggering?” Fred said cheekily. “We’re touched, but if you really wanted to, you could’ve just asked-“

“-No no no,” Harry said hurriedly. “That was just a- a misunderstanding.”

Fred and George merely quirked their eyebrows at him. Harry rushed on to his next sentence.

“I just wanted to give you two an update on what I’m working on.”

“Oh yeah?” Fred and George’s curiosity seemed to have been piqued.

“I was thinking of doing a line of products based on the Unforgivable Curses. Products to protect against the curses, and products that can replicate the curses. Of course to a small extent.”

“That’s brilliant!” Fred looked in complete awe. But George on the other hand, looked a bit unsure.

“Harry... This is some serious stuff. It’s illegal and dangerous!”

“Well illegal and dangerous has never stopped you two before!” Harry retorted.

Hurt flashed across George’s face, but before Harry could feel too guilty, Fred grasped Harry’s hand.

“I think it’s fine. George think about how we could be revolutionising Defence Against the Dark Arts!”

Harry smiled dazedly at Fred. Fred’s hand was big and rough, with callouses lining his palm. The weight of Fred’s hand in his own was comforting. Harry wished that he could stay like this forever. But Harry reluctantly extracted his hand from Fred’s.

“I’d better go now. I’ll see you two at the feast tonight!”

Harry went to class, but all he could think about, was Fred’s hand in his. The rest of the students were similarly distracted, though by something else.

As the students lined up outside the Great Hall, the air was buzzing with excitement.

“Look! There!”

Everyone immediately rushed to the side to watch in awe, as a large, extravagant, gold lined carriage led by four horses, swooped through the air and landed in the courtyard.

“What’s that?”

What looked like a small rowboat was bobbing on the water of the Black Lake. Suddenly, the boat shot up, to reveal a mast. It kept rising, and rising, until a gigantic ship bounced out of the water, and landed back down with a splash.

“Now that’s something you don’t see everyday!” Fred cheered.

“Everyone please get back in line!” Professor McGonagall shouted. “And please Miss Patil, take that silly thing out of you hair.”

Parvati angrily removed an ornamental butterfly from the end of her plait.

As the students settled down, whispers of excitement echoed throughout the hall, despite Professor McGonagall’s persistent shushing.

As Professor Dumbledore got to his feet however, a hush fell over the students.

“I expect you’ve all been waiting for this for a while,” Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling begins his half-moon glasses. “After the feast, I shall brief all of you on the submission of names for the Triwizard Tournament, but for now please give a warm welcome to Madame Maxine, and the sons and daughters of Beauxbatons Academy of Magic!”

The doors of the Great Hall burst open and a gigantic woman stride out. She looked about the size of Hagrid, if not larger.

“Blimey. That’s a large woman,” Seamus said in awe.

She was dressed in what looked like a mink fur coat, and a red silk dress. Harry pitied the many minks that must’ve died to provide her outerwear. Following her, was a group of students, all dressed in light blue silk uniforms. They enchanted dark blue butterflies to fly out from the floor beside them. It would’ve been a gorgeous display, if it weren’t for their disgruntled faces and their violent shivering as they walked forward.

“Don’t they know better,” Hermione whispered as the students wrapped their arms around themselves, trying desperately to warm up.

“Dumbly-dorr,” the woman said in a deep voice, “I hope I find you well.”

“I am, Madame Maxine,” Dumbledore said, dipping his head down slightly to kiss her outstretched hand.

“Ze ‘orses-“

“-Will be taken care of by our game keeper and Care of Magical Creatures teacher Hagrid.”

Madame Maxine eyed Hagrid, who was seated.

“Alright. But do take note zat ze ‘orses only drink single-malt whisky.”

Hagrid nodded with a smile and distractedly stabbed his fork through Professor Flitwick’s hand.

As Madame Maxine sat down at the teachers’ table, Dumbledore turned back to the students.

“And now, do give a hand for Professor Karkaroff, and the students of Durmstrang Institute for Magical Learning!”

A group of burly looking students marched through the doors, wielding sticks that sent sparks flying every time they hit the floor. They were dressed more sensibly than the Beauxbatons students, wearing red uniforms with fur coats draped over them. As they reached the front of the hall, a student took out a torch and with a deep breath, blew out a majestic dragon made of fire that snakes around the hall.

The Hogwarts students oohed and aahed at the display.

A tall, wiry looking man with a goatee walked up to Dumbledore and shook his hand heartily.

“Ah Dumbledore, good to see you again old friend,” he boomed. “Do you mind if I bring Viktor closer to the fire? He’s got a bit of a head cold.”

Karkaroff guided a student closer to the fire. Harry instantly recognised the deep set eyes, think eyebrows, and crooked nose.

“Harry- it’s _Krum_!”


	15. Bat Tongues, and Invisibility Cloaks

“I can’t believe he’s here!” Ron whispered excitedly.

Ron rose up to his tippy-toes in a desperate attempt to sneak a peek at the back of Krum’s head. A group of sixth-years crowded around Krum, blocking him from view and Ron growled in frustration.

As the crowd around Krum slowly dissipated, he starters to walk down the hall, turning to look for a seat. Ron shoved Hermione roughly. “Come on make space. Over here! Sit here! Sit- Oh bugger.”

Krum had strode right past the Gryffindor table and had chosen to sit right next to Malfoy and his cronies.

Malfoy grinned smugly at Harry before leaning over to whisper something to Krum.

“That git,” Ron seethed, “Probably filling Krum up with praise. I’m sure Krum can see through his rubbish.”

“Well the Durmstrang lot seem happier than the Beauxbatons lot at least,” Hermione said.

The Durmstrang students, all of whom had settled down at the Slytherin table, wore a look of derisive disinterest. A few of them examined the golden plates and goblets unimpressedly, while a few other boredly stared up at the ceiling.

The Beauxbatons students however, looked downright miserable. They had wrapped scarves and shawls around their heads, and were looking around the hall glumly.

“Why didn’t they bring cloaks?” Hermione said irritably. “It’s not even that cold.”

“Eh,” Ron said vaguely. He was still staring at Krum.

As Karkaroff made himself comfortable at the teachers table, Dumbledore stepped forward.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, ghosts and- most particularly - guests,” Dumbledore said, beaming at the foreign students. “I have great pleasure in welcoming you all the Hogwarts. I hope and trust that your stay here will be both comfortable and enjoyable.”

One of the Beauxbatons girls who still had a muffler wrapped around her head, snorted loudly.

“No ones making you stay!” Hermione bristled.

“The Tournament will be officially opened at the end of the feast,” said Dumbledore. “I now invite you all to eat, drink, and make yourselves at home!”

The dishes in front of them filled with food as usual. A few unfamiliar dishes had appeared, probably to appease their foreign guests.

“Bouillabaisse,” Hermione said, helping herself to a dish of what looked like a shellfish stew.

“Bless you.”

“No Ron, it’s _French_ ,” Hermione said. “I had it on holiday.

“I’ll take your word for it,” Ron said, heaping black pudding onto his plate.

The Great Hall felt absolutely jam packed, despite the fact that there were only about twenty extra people. Harry equated it to different uniforms that populated the Great Hall now, and the louder than usual buzz, echoing around the hall.

A voice spoke up from over Harry’s shoulder.

“Excuse me, is you wanting ze bouillabaisse?”

It was the girl who had laughed at Dumbledore’s speech. She had removed her muffler and silvery white hair cascaded down her back. Her eyes were wide and doe like, and were an icy shade of blue. Harry noticed her teeth were sparkling white, and unnaturally straight.

Ron turned purple. He stared up at her, his mouth agape.

“Yeah, have it,” Harry said, pushing the dish towards her.

“You ‘ave finished wiz it?”

“Yeah,” Ron said breathlessly. “Yeah it was amazing.”

She grabbed the plate and walked back to the Ravenclaw table.

As she sashayed away, Ron turned to Harry frantically, “She’s a _Veela_.”

“Of course she’s not a Veela Ron,” Hermione scoffed. “It’s only you who is reacting this way.”

But Hermione was wrong, several other pairs of eyes were tracking the girl as she sat down.

Harry spotted George spin around to the girl, before turning to whisper excitedly to Fred, gesturing to the girl who had sat down behind them.

“That’s not a normal girl. I swear they don’t make them like that at Hogwarts,” Ron said breathlessly.

“They make them ok,” Harry said distractedly, his eyes still fixed on Fred who was chuckling with George.

“Well if you two are done ogling girls,” Hermione said. “You’ll see who’s just arrived.”

Belatedly, Harry realised that right next to Fleur, and directly behind Fred, sat Cho, who met his eye and waved happily. As Harry averted his gaze, blushing, he looked up to the Teachers table to see two new people, Mr Crouch, and Ludo Bagman.

“What’re they doing here?” Harry asked in surprise.

“Well they arranged the Tournament. I assume they want to see it start,” Hermione replied.

The second course arrived, and Ron strategically placed a place blancmange at the edge of the table, glancing over hopefully at the girl. Unfortunately she seemed to have eaten her full, and paid Ron no mind.

Once the golden plates and goblets were wiped clean, Dumbledore stood up again. A pleasant tension filled the air. Harry felt a thrill of anticipation and excitement.

“The moment has come,” Dumbledore said, smiling at the sea of upturned faces. “The Triwizard Tournament is about to start. I would like to say a few words of explanation before we bring in the casket-“

“The what?” Harry muttered.

Ron shrugged.

“-just to clarify the procedure which we will be following this year. But firstly, let me introduce, for those of you who don’t know them, Mr Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Co-operation”-there was a light smattering of applause- “and Mr Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports.”

There was a much bigger round of applause.

Bagman acknowledged them all with a jovial wave.

“Mr Bagman and Mr Crouch have been working tirelessly on this Tournament, and they, along with myself, Professor Karkaroff, and Madame Maxine will sit on the panel of judges.”

Dumbledore smiled, and beckoned Filch over. Filch lumbered over, an old wooden chest embedded with jewels, cradled in his arms.

A murmur of excitement rose. Dennis Creevey stood up on his bench in a desperate effort to see the chest, but he was so small his head barely rose above anyone else’s.

“The instructions for the tasks the champions will face this year have already been examined by Mr Crouch and Mr Bagman,” Dumbledore said as Filch placed the chest carefully onto the table before him, “and they have made the necessary arrangement for each challenge. As you know, three champions compete in the Tournament, one from each participating school. They will be marked on how well they perform each of the Tournament tasks and the champion with the highest total after task three will win the Triwizard Cup. The champions will be chosen by an impartial selector... the Goblet of Fire.”

Dumbledore took out his wand and tapped the lid of the chest three times. The lid slowly creaked open, and Dumbledore reached in, and drew out a goblet. It was made of glass and metal, and would’ve been rather unremarkable if it weren’t for the fact that there were blue flames dancing within it.

Dumbledore places the goblet on top of the chest for everyone to see.

“Anyone who wishes to enter, must write their name, and school onto a piece of paper and deposit into the flames,” Dumbledore said, surveying the students. “By tomorrow night, by Hallowe’en, the Goblet will return the names of the three students it judges most worthy. The cup will be left here to let prospective champions enter.”

Smiling knowingly, Dumbledore said, “To prevent the temptation, I will draw an age line around the Goblet. Now, it’s late, all of you to bed now!”

“An age line!” Ron said excitedly, rising to his feet. “That seems like it’ll be easy to bypass. All you need is an aging potion!”

“I wouldn’t be so certain,” Hermione said curtly, “Knowing Dumbledore, he’ll have some tricks up his sleeves.”

“Wonder where the Durmstrang students are sleeping,” Ron wondered, peering over at the group of them. Harry knew he was looking out for Krum.

“Probably their ship,” Harry suggested.

Surely enough, Professor Karkaroff was ushering his students out of the hall, towards where their ship was parked.

“Come on Krum, you look so cold. Should I send for some mulled wine from the kitchens?” he was saying.

Krum, surly as ever, just shook his head as he pulled his fur coat back on.

“Professor _I_ vood like some vine,” another student said hopefully.

“I wasn’t talking to you Poliakoff,” Karkaroff snapped, his warm paternal vanishing, “I see you’ve dribbled food all over your front again. What a disgrace.”

Karkaroff and his students reached the doors at the same time as Harry, Ron and Hermione. Harry stepped by to let them pass first.

Karkaroff muttered a quick thanks, before doing a double-take.

His eyes travelled up to his forehead, and he stared, in open mouthed awe. A few of the students behind him followed in suit, pointing at Harry’s forehead and whispering to each other.

“Yeah that’s Harry Potter,” a voice growled from behind them.

Professor Karkaroff spun around to face Professor Moody. Professor Moody stared at Karkaroff unblinkingly, his face unreadable.

“You,” Karkaroff hissed.

“Yes, me, and I less you’ve got anything to say to Potter, I suggest you move. You’re blocking the hall.”

Sure enough, a group of students had now gathered at the exit of the hall, impatiently trying to see what was blocking the exit.

Karkaroff shot one last look at Harry, before marching out of the hall, the Durmstrang students on his heel.

Moody’s eyes followed Karkaroff as he left, before turning to Harry and clapping him on the shoulder.

“You alright lad?” he asked.

“Uh- yes,” Harry said. “It happens a lot, don’t worry.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Moody growled, a look of great dislike crossing his face. “He’s the worst kind of sort. I hate how Dumbledore welcomes him in. Now that he’s here, I might teach you some of those Unforgivable Curses after all,” Moody chuckled darkly, before walking off.

“What was that?” Ron asked, perplexed as they walked up the stairs to the Gryffindor dorms.

“No idea,” Harry murmured.

 _“The Unforgivable Curses?”_ Hermione asked shrilly. “Why’re you asking Professor Moody to teach you how to use them?”

“Yeah mate, why?”

“Look it’s not a big deal-“

“-Of course it is Harry! Those curses,” Hermione shuddered. “You have no idea how evil, and twisted they are. You don’t know what they’ll do to you if you try to use them.”

“It’s fine, really Hermione,” Harry said irritably. “Look it’s just for Fred and George’s shop. I thought it would be interesting to have those curses incorporated into products.”

“Harry that’s a terrible idea!” Hermione said, at the same time that Ron said, “Harry that’s a brilliant idea!”

Hermione and Ron gave each other a contemptuous look.

“Look Hermione, I don’t even know if it’ll work. It’s just an idea,” Harry said exasperatedly.

Thankfully, they’d reached the common room.

“Gardyloo,” Harry said, and the painting swung open. Once they crawled into the common room, Harry was ambushed by Fred and George, who pulled him aside.

“Harry we have a plan-“

“-To get over the age line,” they said excitedly.

“We can make an age potion-“

“-We just need your help.”

“Uh- sure,” Harry said, “But I’m not really sure how I can help.”

“You don’t worry about,” Fred said, “Just meet us here at 10 tonight.”

Fred and George then quickly scampered upstairs, no doubt to formulate a plan.

“What was that all about,” Ron asked as Harry made his way back to them.

“Fred and George want me to help them make an age potion.”

“Harry-“

“I know Hermione!” Harry sighed.

“Do you reckon they’ll let me have some?”

“Ron!”

*

Harry laid on his bed, staring at the canopy above his bed. He turned to face the clock on his bed. Five to 10 o’clock.

He got to his feet and quietly made his way downstairs. Harry was surprised to see only Fred there. It was rare for Fred and George to be apart.

“So... what’re we doing?” Harry questioned.

“We, are stealing a bat tongue,” Fred said triumphantly.

“Pardon?” Harry said, flabbergasted.

“We already have the other ingredients for the potion, all we need, is a bat tongue.”

“Well... where’s George?” 

“He’s already making the potion,” Fred said, pointing up, “Once you start making the potion, you can’t really stop stirring. Rather mind-numbing work if you ask my opinion. Well it’s just too bad that Georgie drew the short straw.”

“Well, where can we get a bat tongue?” Harry asked. “I haven’t really seen bats around Hogwarts.” 

“Where else?” Fred laughed. “Snape’s classroom of course.”

Harry felt rather stupid, but Fred thankfully didn’t pay any mind to him, instead peering at Harry’s hands.  
  
“Did you bring your invisibility cloak?” Fred asked. 

“Uh- no... I’ll get it now,” Harry said. Harry ran up, grabbed his invisibility cloak and sprinted back downstairs. 

“It’s rather small, isn’t it,” Fred mused. “Think we could fit under there?”

Harry glanced down at the cloak clutched in his hands. 

“I swear this used to be bigger.”

Fred chuckled and grabbed the cloak from Harry’s hands, draping the cloak over the both of them.

“You’d better scoot closer,” Fred said, shifting into an awkward half-squatting position. 

Harry shuffled over. 

“Closer Harry, your feet are still sticking out.”

Harry shuffled even closer, until he was pressed against Harry’s side. Fred smelt warm, and sweet. Harry wondered if he’d just had a shower.

“Alright,” Fred whispered, “I think we’re good to go.”

And with an awkward combination of stumbling, and shuffling, Fred and Harry made their way to the dungeon.

“There’s the classroom,” Harry said excitedly.

The pair shuffled forward but a loud _meow_ behind them to freeze in their tracks.

Mrs Norris’ red eyes seemed to glow in the dim hallway, she was resting on her haunches, but rose up and padded towards them. Her eyes flicked left and right. Harry and Fred held their breath. She sauntered over to Fred, and sniffed at his shoe, before letting out a ear-splitting yowl and running off.

“Bugger!” Fred cursed.

He yanked the invisibility cloak off of them and said frantically, “Filch will be here at any moment! Harry you take this,” Fred shoved the cloak into Harry’s hands, “You go get the bat tongue and if Filch comes, hide! I’ll distract him as long as I can!”

“But Fred,” Harry hissed, “What if you get caught?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time, now go! We don’t have much time.”

Harry scrambled to wrap the cloak around himself, and ran into the potions classroom.

Fumbling around the cupboards, and drawers, Harry began to feel a film of sweat covering his forehead.

 _”Where does the greasy bastard keep his bat tongues,”_ Harry groaned. How much time had passed? A minute? Ten minutes? An explosion right outside the door startled Harry, causing him to knock over a jar. He dived down to the floor, catching it. Waiting with bated breath, Harry lay there on the floor, praying that nobody had heard his commotion.

After a few seconds passed, Harry slowly got to his feet, the jar clutched in his hand. Harry stared down at the jar curiously, he hadn’t seen it before. It was filled with what looked like hairy pink worms. Harry spun the jar around to read its label. 

_”Bat tongues.”_

“Yes!” Harry rejoiced.

He gingerly extracted one from the jar, and slipped it into his pocket. Carefully placing the jar back, Harry snuck out of the classroom.

He peered around the doorway. 

“Fred you there?” he called out.

“Harry, I’m here,” Fred whispered, tapping Harry on the shoulder, “I think I lost Filch. Distracted him with a dungbomb, then I set off some fireworks at the other corridor. Also, you look like a decapitated head with the cloak wrapped around you like that.”

Harry looked down, sure enough, his body disappeared from the neck down. Throwing his head back, Harry let out a guffaw, not just at the way he looked, but also at the ridiculous situation he had found himself in. Fred’s face split with a grin, and he too joined in on the laughter. The pair giggled and wheezed until they were clutching their sides in pain.

As their laughter died down, scrabbling footsteps echoed behind them.

“Mrs Norris!” Fred cried, pulling Harry along.

They dashed into an old broom closet, their breaths catching in their throats as they heard Mrs Norris’ walk past, followed by Filch’s grumbling and cursing.

As Filch’s voice grew more distant, Harry turned to Fred.

Harry, and Fred locked eyes. They were pressed chest-to-chest. There almost seemed to be a spark within the air, and as if pulled towards Fred by some invisible force, Harry leaned in closer towards Fred. 

Harry felt the urge to map out the constellation of freckles dotting Fred’s face. He could feel Fred’s breath on his lips, and saw his eyes flutter shut. Harry closed his eyes as well, tilting his head towards Fred and- 

Fred pulled away abruptly. Harry’s eyes sprung open and he blinked confusedly at Fred.

“We’d best be going,” Fred said shortly. “I think Filch has gone.”

The two of them made their way back upstairs, the atmosphere significantly more cold than it was previously, and fraught with tension.

Harry whispered the password to the Fat Lady, who murmured sleepily, before swinging the portrait open.

As they entered the common room, Fred whipped the cloak off them.

“That was- definitely interesting,” Harry joked.

“Yeah definitely,” Fred chuckled.

A moment of silence filled the air. Harry shifted awkwardly. Fred broke the silence first.

“Well thank you for helping. I think me and George can take it from here. I hope the git hasn’t fallen asleep yet. Sure you don’t want some of the potion?”

“Yes, yes I’m sure,” Harry said, extracting the bat tongue from his pocket and handing it to Fred, “Tonight was fun, Fred.”

“Yeah... yeah it was... Goodnight Harry.”

“Goodnight Fred.”

Harry made his way back to his dorm, and collapsed onto his bed. He stared at the canopy, and willed himself to sleep, but he couldn’t help but relive that moment in the closet over, and over, again. _”What happened?”_ Harry asked himself. 

Was Fred repulsed by Harry? Harry wouldn’t be surprised if that was the case. Humiliation seethed within him, and Harry rubbed at his eyes roughly, trying to wipe that memory from his mind, but to no avail.

Eventually, exhaustion overcame Harry, and he slipped into a deep, dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I said slow burn, I meant slow burn. Also this chapter’s pretty thicc.


	16. Hogwarts Champions

The next day was Saturday. Students would usually have taken this opportunity to sleep in. But even though Harry, Ron, and Hermione thought that they were early to rise, they found that the majority of the student body had already gathered in the Great Hall by the time they made their way down.

The Goblet of Fire stood in the middle of the hall, it’s white-blue flames painting the hall in a blue glow. A thin golden line had been drawn in a circle around the goblet.

“Hey has Cedric put his name in?” Harry asked a third year girl.

“Not to my knowledge,” she replied. 

“Surely you’re not rooting for pretty-boy Cedric,” Ron scowled.

“He’s nice,” Harry replied absentmindedly as he settled down beside Hermione I’m the benches.

“You know that’s just an act right?” Ron scoffed

Harry didn’t reply because just then, Cedric came in, laughing as his friends jostled him.

“Come on Diggory!” his friends cheered.

Cedric took a deep breath, and stepped over the age-line. He took out his piece of parchment and dropped it into the goblet. The flames turned scarlet and roared loudly, before settling down back to it’s white-blue glow.

His friends clapped his back as he stepped out of the circle. Cho emerged from behind a pillar, and congratulated Cedric loudly. As Harry stared at Cho and Cedric, he felt his stomach drop. 

Cedric turned around and spotted Harry. He hurried over to Harry and said breathlessly, “Hi Harry! I’ve just done it!”

Harry couldn’t help but notice Cho, staring after the both of them. He tore his eyes away from her to smile up at Cedric. “Congratulations Cedric! I’m sure they’ll pick you as Champion.”

“Well if they do, I’m going to hold you to your promise of supporting me,” Cedric said, raising his eyebrows.

“Of course,” Harry chuckled. “I’ll make the badges and everything!”

Cedric’s friends called him over loudly and Cedric glanced apologetically at Harry, before running off. 

“I see your game mate?” Ron said. He was still standing, and had placed his hand on his hips as he watched Cedric run to the other side of the hall.

“What game?” Harry asked confusedly.

“You’re buttering Cedric up so you can weasel in between him and that Cho girl,” Ron grinned.

“No. There’s no game Ron,” Harry said shortly.

“Ok, if you say so,” Ron shrugged.

Harry was about to make a retort, when Fred and George Weasley, in their typical fashion, burst into the hall loudly with Lee trailing behind them, glass vials in their hand, filled with some milky liquid.

Harry’s groaned internally. He’d been hoping to avoid Fred after what had happened the night before. But thankfully Fred and George paid him no mind as they exclaimed loudly, “Thank you! Thank you!”

“Cooked it up just this morning!”

“It’s not going to wo-oooork,” Hermione sing-songed from beside Harry, not looking up from her book.

Fred and George exchanged a glance, before scrambling down to gather beside Hermione, with George on Hermione’s left, and Fred and Hermione’s right. Harry held his breath as Fred’s arm accidentally brushed his leg.

“Oh yeah?”

“And why’s that Granger?”

Hermione looked up exasperatedly.

“You see that?” she said, pointing to the golden line. “That, is an age-line. Dumbledore drew it himself!”

“So?” Fred asked, cocking his eyebrow. 

Hermione shut her book forcefully. 

“So, there’s no way that Dumbledore would be fooled by something as pathetically dim-witted, as an Aging potion!”

“Well that’s why it’s going to work!” Fred said.

“Because it’s so pathetically dim-witted!” George finished.

They both rose to the feet and linked their arms.

“Ready Fred?”

“Ready George!”

“Bottoms up,” they chorused, tipping the vials back.

Lee followed in suit and downed his vial.

Fred and George jumped into the circle and everyone held their breath, including Harry.

After about five seconds, everyone burst into cheers, Fred and George took out their pieces of paper. Just before they dropped them into the goblet, Fred glanced over at Harry. 

It wasn’t a particularly special glance, but it left Harry shaken. There wasn’t disdain in his glance, but there wasn’t anything discernible I in it either. Before Harry could decode just _what on earth_ that glance meant, Fred turned away and along with George, dropped their pieces of paper into the goblet. 

The flames, as they had before, turned red and roared. But this time, a pillar of fire shot towards Fred and George, catapulting the both of them backwards. 

Harry stood up alarmedly, and made to rush over to them, but before he could Fred and George rose.

Their hair and turned white, and a silver beard was sprouting from each of their chins.

“You said-“

“-You said!”

They both tackled each other as the rest of the students in the great hall cackled loudly.

Despite himself, Harry also burst into giggles at the ridiculous sight before him. 

“I did warn you,” said a deep, amused voice. Dumbledore surveyed both Fred and George who had broken apart. His eyes twinkled. “I’d suggest you both make you way to Madam Pomfrey. She’s already tending to Miss Fawcett, of Ravenclaw, and Mr Summers, of Hufflepuff. Though neither of their beards are as magnificent as yours.”

Fred and George picked themselves off the floor dejectedly, and made their way out of the hall as Lee cackled loudly, following behind them.

A hush fell over the hall again however, as the Durmstrang students made their entrance. Krum led the pack, his face as sullen as ever.

He stormed past the age-line with no hesitation, raised his hand to drop his piece of parchment in, but not before turning to fix Hermione with his steely gaze. Hermione stared back at him in awe. 

“Hi Krum,” Ron said breathlessly, but Ken paid him no mind.

He dropped his parchment in and stepped away to let the other students have a turn.

“Pick your jaw off the floor Hermione,” Harry teased. 

“Shut up,” Hermione said, packing her books up and rising to her feet.

“Let’s get breakfast,” Ron said. “I’m starving.”

They left the hall and their way over to the makeshift Great Hall, which was a tent that was set up on the grass beside the Entrance Hall.

Though the tent seemed small, when Harry ducked his head under the flap, he found the interior was almost as big as the Great Hall itself. As it was Halloween, live bats fluttered at the top of the tent, which had been enchanted just like the Great Hall. Pumpkins also peered out from every corner. Torches lined the tents white walls, and wooden tables and benches were arranged throughout the tent.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione made their way over to Seamus and Dean, who seemed to be discussing something heatedly.

“Oh hi,” Dean greeted. “I was telling Seamus, there’s a rumour that Warrington, you know that big Slytherin bloke, got up early today to put his name in.”

“We can’t have a Slytherin champion,” Harry said disgustedly.

“And all the Hufflepuffs have been talking about Diggory,” Seamus said contemptuously. “Didn’t think he’d want to risk his good looks!”

“Look!” Hermione said.

Angelina was jogging over to them, a grin on her face.

“I’ve done it!” she exclaimed. “I’ve entered!”

“Nice, Angelina!” Ron said, looking impressed.

“I’m glad someone from Gryffindor’s entered,” Hermione said. “I hope you get it!” 

Angelina beamed and said, “Thanks!”

“Better you than pretty-boy Diggory,” Seamus said, causing some Hufflepuffs walking past to glare at them in disdain.

“What’re we going to do today then?” Ron asked as the three of them finished their breakfast.

“We haven’t been down to visit Hagrid,” Harry suggested.

“Sounds good,” Ron said. “As long as he doesn’t want us to donate a few fingers to the Skrewts.”

A look of great excitement dawned on Hermione’s face.

“I haven’t told Hagrid about S.P.E.W. yet! Wait for me will you, while I go up and grab the badges.”

“What’s she like...” Ron said exasperatedly as Hermione disappeared as she ducked under the tent flap.

They made their way down to Hagrid’s hut, the box of badges Hermione held, rattling with every step she made. 

Harry knocked on the door and it swung open immediately. 

“Thought you lot’d had forgotten about me! It’s about time!”

The trio stared blankly up at Hagrid, lost for words.

He was dressed in a hairy brown suit, paired with a checked yellow and orange tie. His hair was slicked into two ponytails.

Hermione cleared her throat awkwardly and said,” Sorry Hagrid. We’ve just been busy.”

“Well that’s alrigh’. I was just messin’ with you. Come in.”

They spent the rest of the day chatting with Hagrid about the Triwizard tournament. Hermione attempted to give Hagrid a S.P.E.W. badge but he declined. 

“It’s be doing ‘em an unkindness,” Hagrid insisted.

Hermione looked very cross and stuffed the badge back into the box.

As they left Hagrid’s hut, Harry said, “We should go visit your brothers, see if they’re ok.”

“I’m sure the gits are fine,” Ron snorted.

“Well, I’ll just go then,” Harry said. He was desperate to not only check on Fred and George, but also to clear the air with Fred.

Making his way to the Hospital Wing, Harry peeked his head through the door to see what was going on.

A disgruntled Ravenclaw girl was shrugging on her robes as Madam Pomfrey gave her an earful. She hurried out of the Hospital Wing, striding past Harry. 

Madam Pomfrey spotted Harry and stomped towards him. On instinct, Harry straightened up and backed away. 

“Not you too, Potter,” she said, examining him furiously. 

“Uh- No,” Harry said, yanking his arm away from her. “I’m just here to see Fred and George.”

“Oh thank Merlin,” she sighed, “Well they’ll be discharged in a few hours. Can’t you wait until then? Visiting hours are over.”

“No. I want to see them now,” Harry said firmly.

“Alright then,” Madam Pomfrey said, leading Harry past a Hufflepuff boy who was grumbling to himself, to Fred and George. 

They were dressed in white pyjamas, and looked back to normal, save for a few silvery streaks in their carrot red hair.

“Mr Weasley. Mr Weasley. You have a visitor.”

“Blimey Harry,” George said, shooting out of bed. “That was a disaster!”

“Yeah,” Fred groaned, rising as well. “How shall our reputation ever recover.”

“I’m sure half the school has forgotten about it already,” Harry chuckled. “They’re probably busy talking about Krum and Cedric.”

This didn’t seem to help their mood and Harry felt like slapping himself for his callousness.

“Of course, the iconic Weasley twins will never be forgotten!” Harry said quickly. 

They brightened up a bit at this and Harry sighed relievedly.

“Well,” George said, “If you don’t mind, Harry, I think I’ll go take a nap before dinner.”

He turned around and comically, started snoring immediately. Harry was staring at George confusedly, when Fred grabbed Harry’s hand.

“Harry I want to apologise for what happened,” Fred said seriously. “Things never should’ve have gotten that far last night.”

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Harry replied, “Err- Yeah of course.”

Smiling relievedly, Fred said, “Glad we cleared the air. And Harry... not to sound accusing or anything... But if you didn’t like the necklace you could have just told me.”

With a start, Harry exclaimed, “No Fred! Of course I love it! It just... kind of tickles my chest sometimes.”

“Oh... well that’s good to hear.”

Much to Harry’s disappointment, Fred released Harry’s hand. 

“Well, you should be going. The Hallowe’en Feast should be starting soon. Madam Pomfrey says we should be out before the goblet makes it’s decisions.”

Harry slunk out of the Hospital Wing, feeling rather rotten. _”Well I’ve made a right mess of things,”_ Harry mumbled to himself. If Harry wasn’t sure that Fred didn’t like him before, he was sure now.

But, Harry spotted something, or rather someone, who could help him.

“Hey Cedric!”

Cedric stopped in his tracks to smile at Harry.

“Hi Harry! Going to the feast?”

“Yeah,” Harry hurried, “Look Cedric, I kind of need a favour from you...”

“What is it?” Cedric asked, furrowing his brows.

“Well...” Harry said, fumbling around in his pockets, before pulling out the broken broomstick necklace. The pendant did a few feeble loop-de-loops, before dropping down into Harry’s palm. 

“Could you help me fix this?” Harry begged.

“Well... I’d have thought you’d ask your friend Hermione. She seems to be rather knowledgeable about this sort of thing,” Cedric said as he picked up the necklace, examining it.

“Well yes... I just... Didn’t want to bother her. Not that I’m ok with bothering you or anything!”

“It’s fine Harry,” Cedric chuckled, “Fred gave this to you didn’t he?”

“How’d you know that?” Harry sputtered.

“Well for one,” Cedric said, “You two aren’t exactly being subtle.”

“What’d you mean,” Harry said blankly.

“I assume you two are keeping your relationship secret?” Cedric asked, raising his eyebrow.

“Oh- OH. No we’re just friends,” Harry said, forcing out a laugh.

“Alright...” Cedric said. “Well I’ll see what I can do with this. And don’t worry... I’ll be careful with it,” he said, pocketing the necklace.

The two accompanied each other to the Great Hall, and parted ways once they entered.

Harry found that the feast had already started, and was waved over by Ron and Hermione who had saved him a seat, and were tucking into some roast chicken.

The feast dragged on a lot longer than usual. Maybe it was the fact that they’d had feasts two times in a row, but Harry knew that he, like everyone else, was itching to find out who the champions were.

Finally, all the plates in the hall were wiped clean, and Dumbledore got to his feet.

Dumbledore stood next to the goblet, which had now been moved in front of the headmaster’s chair.

“Well, the goblet is almost ready to make its decision,” said Dumbledore. “I estimate that it requires one more minute. Now, when the champions’ names are called, I would ask them please to come up to the top of the hall, all along the staff table, and go straight through into the next chamber“ - he indicated the door behind the staff table - “where they will be receiving their first instructions.”

Dumbledore waved his wand in a grand sweeping gesture, and all the candles in the hall were extinguished with a gust of wind. The only source of light, was the goblet, whose dancing white-blue flames cast shapes onto the walls of the hall.

“Any time now...” Lee Jordan whispered.

Sure enough, the flames turned scarlet again. Sparks began to fly from the goblet. Next moment, a tongue of flame shot out, expelling a charred piece of parchment which fluttered in the air.

Dumbledore grabbed the parchment and read it in the light of the goblet, whose flames turned white-blue again.

“That champion for Durmstrang... is Krum!”

“No surprise there!” Ron said as a storm of applause swept over the hall.

The clapping died down as everyone stared raptly at the goblet. Once again, the flames turned red and shot out a piece of parchment.

“The champion for Beauxbatons... is Fleur Delacour!”

“It’s her Ron!” Harry shouted, as the girl who looked like a Veela rose gracefully to her feet, following applause.

Most of the Beauxbatons students seemed happy, with a few congratulating her. However, a few students had burst into tears.

Once Fleur left, the silence resumed once more, however this time, the hall was so quiet that Harry could’ve heard a pin drop from the other side of the hall. 

The goblet spit out one more piece of parchment, and Dumbledore grabbed it.

“The Hogwarts champion is... Cedric Diggory!”

The hall erupted into applause so loud that Harry swore the walls shook.

Every single Hufflepuff had jumped to their feet to cheer and congratulate Cedric, who rose to his feet bashfully.

“Not him,” Ron groaned.

Harry ignore Ron and joined in on the cheering. As Cedric passed Harry on his way to the front, he grinned at Harry, who responded with an excited wave.

After about one straight minute of applause, the ruckus finally died down.

“Excellent!” Dumbledore called happily, as at last the tumult died down. “Well, we now have our three champions. I am sure I can count upon all of you, including the remaining students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, to give your champions every ounce of support you can muster. By cheering your champion on, you will contribute in a very real-“

The fire in the goblet had turned red again. A piece of parchment shot out of the goblet. 

Dumbledore snatched it out of the air and stared at it blankly. After what seemed like an eternity of silence, Dumbledore cleared his throat, and read out-

_”Harry Potter.”_


	17. The Glamourous Life of Harry Potter

Harry sat there, frozen in his seat. He felt the eyes of every person in the hall swivel to face him. A pressure started to build up between his eyes, a buzzing filled his ears, and his vision began to blur and darken. A rough nudge from Hermione knocked Harry from his stupor. 

“Go on Harry,” she hissed. Harry didn’t budge, and just stared at Dumbledore, who stared back. 

“For goodness sakes get up there!”

Stumbling to his feet, Harry began the long, and torturous trek up to the front of the hall. Every step he took echoed around the hall. 

He glanced behind him, and met Fred’s eyes. He and George seemed to have slipped in halfway through the feast. Confusion filled Fred’s face, and beside him, George’s face held a similar bewildered expression.

“You cheat!” an angry student yelled.

“He’s not even seventeen!” another student barked.

A angry buzz filled the hall.

With what felt like a thousand eyes on him, Harry made his way to the front, passing by Snape who fixed him with a sneer. Hagrid, who was sitting at the far end of the teachers table, stared at Harry in open-mouthed astonishment.

As he stepped past McGonagall, she gave him a light pat on the shoulder, before ushering him on. The last teacher he walked past, was Moody, whose face was still fixed in his trademark imperceptible scowl.

Walking through the door, Harry found himself in a smaller room, whose walls were lined with paintings. The paintings’ inhabitants whipped around to face Harry as he entered, and whispered to each other while shooting Harry glances.

The room was also filled with what looked like various knick-knacks. Various glass casings filled with everything from necklaces to hexagonal crystals populated the room.

Fleur Delacour stepped away from a jewel encrusted goblet she was examining, and walked towards the fireplace where Cedric and Krum were standing. The three of them looked magnificent, silhouetted against the majestic flames.

“Well, what is it?” Fleur asked. “Do zey want us back in ze hall?”

Cedric looked at Harry expectantly.

Harry felt sick to his stomach. They thought he was just there to give them a message. He stood there stupidly, suddenly realising how tall they all were.

A sound of scurrying feet provided Harry a pleasant distraction, until Ludo Bagman joyously grabbed Harry’s arm. 

“Extraordinary!” he roared, leading Harry forward. “Gentlemen... and lady, may I introduce - impossible to believe, I know - the _fourth_ Triwizard champion!”

Krum straightened up, and his surly face darkened as he surveyed Harry. Cedric gaped at Harry blindly. He turned to Bagman, then back to Harry, then back to Bagman in a very comical manner. Fleur however, merely flipped her hair over her shoulder and let out a tinkling laugh. “Oh, vairy funny joke, Meester Bagman.”

“Joke?” Bagman sputtered. “Not at all! Harry’s name just came from the Goblet of Fire!”

Krum’s thick caterpillar eyebrows raised a fraction. Cedric was still spinning left and right bewilderedly. 

Fleur frowned at Bagman. “But evidently zair ‘as been a mistake,” she said contemptuously to Bagman. “‘E cannot compete! ‘E is too young!”

“Well... it certainly was a surprise for everyone...” Bagman said, rubbing his smooth face. “But it’s the rules. If your name is drawn, you have to enter. Though I’m not entirely sure if the rules apply... given the... _situation_.”

The door behind them swung open, and a cacophony of angry voices trailed into the room.

“Madame Maxine!” Fleur called putting, approaching her Headmistress. “Is it true. Zey are saying zat zis little boy is competing!”

Harry felt a ripple of indignation at her words. _Little boy?_

Madame Maxine strode up to Harry, angrily knocking the chandelier out of her way.

“What is ze meaning of zis, Dumbly-dorr?” she said peremptorily.

“I’d like to know as well Dumbledore,” Professor Karkaroff said. A steely smile adorned his face, and his eyes gazed at Dumbledore coldly. “ _Two_ Hogwarts champions? Now, maybe I didn’t read the rules properly, but I could have sworn that they said that _one_ champion per school could be chosen.”

 _”C’est impossible,”_ Madame Maxine said. “‘Ogwarts cannot have two champions. It is most injust.”

“We were under the impression that that age line of yours would deter younger students, Karkaroff said, the steely smile still on his face. “If we’d had known different, well, we’d have brought a larger variety of students.”

“It’s no ones fault but Potter’s” Snape said softly. “The boys had a penchant for breaking rules every since he step foot into Hogwarts.”

“Thank you Severus,” Dumbledore said firmly. Snapes eyes glinted maliciously at Harry.

Professor Dumbledore peered at Harry. His expression was indecipherable behind his half-moon glasses.

“Did you put your name into the Goblet of Fire, Harry?” Dumbledore asked quietly.

“No,” Harry said insistently. Snape snorted softly.

“Did you get one of the older students to put it into the Goblet of Fire for you?” continued Professor Dumbledore.

 _”No,”_ Harry said vehemently.

“‘E lies!” Madame Maxine cried out.

“He couldn’t have crossed the age line,” Professor McGonagall said sharply. “I am sure we all agree on that-“

“Dumbly-dorr must ‘ave made a mistake wiz ze line,” Madame Maxine shrugged.

“It could’ve happened,” Dumbledore agreed politely.

“Oh for goodness sake,” Professor McGonagall huffed impatiently, “You very well know you didn’t make a mistake! There is no way that Harry could have crossed the line, and as Professor Dumbledore believes that he didn’t ask an older student to put his name in for him, I’m sure that’s good enough for everyone else!”

She shot a contemptuous look at Professor Snape, who sneered at her through his mop of greasy hair.

“Mr Crouch... Mr Bagman...” Karkaroff said, his voice, pleasant in an ingratiating manner. “You are our objective judges. Surely you recognise this is unfair?”

Mr Bagman was tucked away in a corner, half his face concealed in shadow. He looked aged, his eyes and cheekbones sunken. But as he spoke, his voice was the same steady, curt tone. “We must follow the rules. The rules state, that whoever’s name comes out of the Goblet of Fire are bound to compete in the Tournament.”

“I insist on the resubmitting of names,” Karkaroff hissed. His smile and pleasant tone had dropped completely, and his face was twisted angrily. “Set up the Goblet of Fire once more, and we will add names until every school has two champions. It’s only fair, Dumbledore.”

“It doesn’t work like that Karkaroff,” Bagman said. “Once the Goblet’s flame extinguished, it won’t reignite until the next Tournament-“

“-Which you be sure Durmstrang won’t be involved in,” Karkaroff exploded. “After all the meeting, and compromises, and negotiations, I could have never expected something like this to occur! I have half a mind to leave right now!”

“Shame you can’t though,” a voice growled from behind them. “You can’t leave your champion. Binding magical contract. They’ve all got to compete. Convenient eh?”

Moody had entered the room, his wooden leg punctuating every step with a loud _clunk_. 

“Convenient?” Karkaroff chuckled darkly. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

“Don’t you?” Moody said quietly. “It’s simple. Someone put Potter’s name in the Goblet, knowing he’d have to compete if his name came out.”

“Evidently, it was someone ‘oo wanted to give ‘Ogwarts an unfair advantage,” Madame Maxine huffed.

“Exactly,” Karkaroff harrumphed, “I know that I for one will be complaining-“

“-If anyone should complain, it’s Potter,” Moody growled. “But he isn’t saying a single word.”

Everyone in the room turned to face Harry, and Fleur stomped her foot angrily. 

“Why should ‘e complain?” Fleur burst out. “‘E ‘as ze chance to compete, ‘asn’t ‘e? We’ve all been ‘oping to be chosen for weeks and weeks! Ze honour for our schools! A thousand Galleons in prize money - zis is a chance many would die for!”

“Maybe someone _is_ hoping Potter will die for it,” Moody growled.

Karkaroff guffawed loudly, and bent over clutching his side.

“How ridiculous,” he spat, once he rose up again. “And this is coming from someone who thinks a morning’s a waste if he doesn’t find six plots to kill him.”

“Zere is no evidence of zat!” Madame Maxine scowled at Moody.

“There is!” Moody said. “Because, whoever it is, managed to hoodwink a very powerful magical object. They had to enter Potter under a fourth school, and made sure he was the only one in his category so he’d be chosen.”

“You’ve put a lot of thought into this Moody,” Karkaroff said softly, his eyes shooting daggers at Karkaroff.

“Well Karkaroff,” Moody said menacingly, his voice dropping down to little more than a whisper, “It was once my job to think as Dark Wizards do.”

Karkaroff drew back as if he’d been slapped. His eyes widened, and his face burned.

“Alastor!” Dumbledore warned. Moody fell silent, though his eyes remained on Karkaroff, a look of deep satisfaction on his face.

“We do not know how this came about,” Dumbledore said. “But, the Tournament must go on, there is not other alternative. Cedric and Harry, will both compete.”

Madame Maxine glared at Dumbledore, Snape looked livid, and Karkaroff looked fuming. Bagman on the other hand, looked downright delighted.

“Well, shall we crack on then?” he said, rubbing his hands together. “Barty! The rules?”

Mr Crouch was jolted out of his reverie. Muttering quietly to himself, he stepped forward into the light of the fireplace. Harry was shocked to discover his face was pale, his skin was wrinkled, like thin paper, and dark circles were carved into his under eyes.

Turning to face Harry, Fleur, Cedric, and Krum, Mr Crouch listed out the rules, but his voice seemed softer and shakier than it usually did. Finishing up, he turned to look at Dumble dire and said, “I think that’s all, is it, Albus?”

“I think so,” said Dumbledore, who was looking at Mr Crouch concernedly. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like to stay at Hogwarts tonight?” 

“Yes... yes I must get back to the Ministry. It’s a busy time. Left young Weatherby in charge... very enthusiastic... a bit too enthusiastic.”

The rest of the Professors left, with Karkaroff and Madame Maxine sweeping their respective champions away.

“Harry, Cedric,” Dumbledore smiled down at them, “You should be getting back. I’m sure your houses will take this opportunity to cause a ruckus, and will be throwing you a party.”

Cedric and Harry looked at each other, and walked off together.

“So... I suppose we’re playing against each other again,” Cedric said with a slight smile.

“Yeah... I guess so,” Harry chuckled.

“Harry, how did you get your name in,” Cedric asked curiously as they reached the Entrance Hall.

“I didn’t,” Harry said.

“Well... alright then,” Cedric said. Harry could tell he didn’t believe him one bit. As Cedric turned to walk towards a door beside the marble staircase, Harry stopped him.

“Cedric!”

Cedric paused and turned around to face Harry curiously. 

“I mean it Cedric, I didn’t put my name in the Goblet.”

Cedric walked up to Harry, and with as much sincerity injected into his voice as possible, said, “I believe you Harry.” 

Harry knew he was lying, but he appreciated the effort nonetheless.

Were Ron and Hermione the only people who would believe him? Harry groaned at the thought of Fred and George, thinking he went behind their backs to put his name into the Goblet.

“Cedric I... I think I might have ruined my relationship with someone I really care about,” Harry said quietly.

Cedric’s face softened. 

He reached out and grabbed Harry’s hand. Harry looked up at him in surprise. 

“If this person you care about cares for you in return, they wouldn’t be upset with you,” Cedric said firmly. Harry had an inkling Cedric knew who Harry was referring to.

With a reassuring squeeze, Cedric released Harry’s hand and disappeared into the door.

A warmth filled Harry, and he smiled at the place where Cedric disappeared. For a moment, it felt as if everything would be ok, but then he remembered he would have to face his housemates, and his stomach sank again.

Trudging up to the Fat Lady, Harry noticed someone else was in her portrait with her. The two witches were conversing intently, before the Fat Lady spotted Harry and turned to face him.

“Well well well,” the Fat Lady said haughtily, “Violet’s just told me that you were chosen as a Hogwarts champion.”

“Balderdash,” Harry said miserably. 

“No it isn’t!” the other witch cried out indignantly.

“No Violet, it’s the password,” the Fat Lady soothed.

The portrait swung open, and the blast of noise that greeted him almost knocked Harry backwards.

Lee grabbed him and yanked him inside, where Harry was greeted by people with screams and applause.

“Why didn’t you tell us you entered?” George asked, looking deeply annoyed, as well as deeply impressed.

“Well I didn’t enter-“

Nobody listened to Harry.

“Glad we’ve got a Gryffindor champion!” Katie cheered.

“Well even though it wasn’t me, I’m glad it’s you! And you can get back at Cedric for last year!” Angelina cheered.

“Well Cedric’s all right, really,” Harry protested, “Besides, last year wasn’t really Cedric’s fault-“

“Bet those Hufflepuffs aren’t too happy,” Lee guffawed.

Nobody really seemed to care that Harry wasn’t in the mood to celebrate. In fact, everyone seemed to just be patting themselves on their back, while forcing food and drink into Harry’s mouth. Significantly drunker, Harry peered around, trying to see where Fred was. He missed him.

Fred was sat in the corner, his head in his hands. Smiling, Harry ambled over to him unsteadily, before sitting down on the pouf next to him.

“Some party eh?” Harry asked.

“Yeah... it really is something,“ Fred said, as Lee launched himself off a table in an attempt to grab a Gryffindor banner,

Harry sniggered as Lee stumbled to his feet.

“I didn’t put my name in. If I had I would’ve told you.” Harry said, still looking ahead at the chaos that was the Gryffindor common room.

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry could see Fred nodding his head slightly. Harry could tell Fred didn’t believe him either.

Turning to Fred, and without pausing to think, Harry blurted out, “Why didn’t you kiss me last night?”

Fred’s eyebrows raised in surprise. 

“I thought I told you Harry, it was a mistake. Something that shouldn’t have happened in the first place.”

“But why?” Harry asked frustratedly. “I’m not blind. I know that you like me... If you like me... but just as a friend, you could at least do me the common courtesy of telling me.”

“Of course I like you Harry,” Fred said softly. “But I know that you don’t like me as much as I like you...”

“Bullshit!” Harry burst out. “How’d you even know!”

“I’ve seen you looking,” Fred whispered. “I know you like someone else, and besides, there are other reasons we won’t ever work out.”

“Wha- I don’t like anyone else!”

Fred shook his head, a sad smile stretching across his face.

“W-well go on,” Harry continued, “Do tell, what are the other reasons, hmm?”

Fred just stared at Harry, his hazel eyes searching Harry’s green ones. 

“What’s the point? It’s not like you’ll remember anything tomorrow.”

Sputtering, Harry shakily got to his feet, and staggered towards the staircase to his dormitory furiously. 

Lee caught him leaving, and hastily wrapped a Gryffindor banner around Harry who tripped on it. Gathering it up, Harry stormed up the steps and into his dorm, closing the door with a slam. He breathed a sigh of relief at the much needed quiet, and spotted Ron lounging on his bed, a book on his lap.

“Hey Ron,” Harry sighed, grateful to be alone with someone who would understand him.

“Hello Harry,” Ron said. Something was wrong. Even in his drunken stupor, Harry could tell. Ron was smiling too wide, too unnaturally, and the smile failed to reach his eyes.

Harry realised the banner was still wrapped around his shoulders, and he sheepishly dumped it on the floor.

“I suppose congratulations are in order mate,” Ron carried on.

“... Congratulations?”

“Yes. You managed to put your name in right? Now how’d you manage it.”

“I didn’t put my name in, Ron!” Harry snapped. “Thought you of all people would understand.”

The smile faded.

“Wow Harry. I thought you could be honest with me.”

“I am being honest!” Harry yelled.

“You don’t think I’m stupid do you?”

“Well right now that’s what you are!”

“I’ve seen you with my brothers,” Ron hissed. “I know you’ve been planning something with them. Last night I know you went out with Fred!”

“To help them brew an Aging potion,” Harry argued. 

“And I’m sure you didn’t nick some for yourself...”

“... What’s wrong with you Ron?” Harry stared in disbelief at his best friend.

“Nothing. I’m sure tomorrow you’ll be bragging about it.” Ron grumbled, shutting off his lamp and turning around in his bed.

“Fine!” Harry snapped. He followed in suit, climbing into his bed and pulling the covers over his head.

As Harry drifted off, he thought about whether there was anyone who believed him, and as Ron’s snores began to echo across the room, Harry felt so alone.


	18. Rita Skeeter

Harry woke up with a pounding headache. He clambered out of bed miserably and stomped over to Ron’s bed, ripping his curtains open. Ron was gone. Harry huffed. There went his plans to force Ron to listen to reason. Something else niggled at Harry’s mind however, but try as he might, Harry couldn’t recall it. All he knew, was he’d gotten piss drunk, then had an argument with Ron.

 _”Hope I didn’t do anything too embarrassing,”_ Harry thought to himself as he made his way down to the common room.

The Gryffindors greeted Harry with rapturous applause, who ducked his head down embarrassedly, and gave a tight lipped smile.

Harry spotted Fred and George huddled together in a corner, and he waved at them good naturedly. George gave him a small wave, but Fred avoided Harry’s gaze, instead opting to stare at the wall with a blank expression on his face. Harry wasn’t surprised. His name being pulled out of the Goblet must have been the nail in the coffin of their friendship.

The portrait swung up, and Harry found himself face to face with Hermione.

“Hey,” she said, noticing his sullen expression, “Want to take a walk? I brought toast.”

They settled down beside the lake, watching as the Durmstrang ship bobbed on the lakes still waters, and munching on their toast as The Giant Squid languidly splashed the water with a tentacle.

It was a while before Hermione broke the silence.

“I know you didn’t put your name in,” she simply said.

“Thanks,” Harry huffed. “You might be the only one.”

Hermione shot Harry a wary sideways glance.

“You know, Ron doesn’t actually think you put your name in. He’s just... you know...”

“He’s just what?” Harry said exasperatedly.

“He’s _jealous_!” Hermione said, looking like Harry as though he were an idiot.

“What’s he got to be jealous of,” Harry retorted.

“Well for starters, you should try to imagine what it feels like for him, to always be in the Chosen One’s shadow.”

“Well if he’d like to be entered in a deadly competition without his consent, then Ron should go ahead and take my place then!” Harry burst out.

“Harry...” Hermione chided. “He’s your best friend. You two have been through too much, to let this split you apart.”

“Well I’d be willing to reconcile with him, but only if he apologises,” Harry said firmly.

Conceding defeat, Hermione changed the subject.

“You should write to Sirius.”

“Come off it Hermione! Sirius came back to the country just because my scar twinged, if I tell him about this, he’d probably come bursting into the castle!”

“Harry,” Hermione said sternly, “ _He told you to tell him if anything happened!_ Besides, he’ll probably find out on his own and come bursting into the castle anyway!”

“Fine,” Harry grumbled. He tossed his last piece of toast into the water and The Giant Squid scooped it up.

“What owl am I going to use?” he asked Hermione as the walked up the stairs to the Owlery.

“You could always ask Ron-“

“No.”

“Fine. Then just use a school owl. Anyone can use them.”

Hermione handed Harry a quill, some ink, and a piece of parchment and Harry began composing his letter.

_Dear Sirius,_  
_You told me to keep you posted on what’s happening at Hogwarts, so here goes - I don’t know if you’ve heard, but the Triwizard Tournament’s happening this year and on Saturday night I got picked as fourth champion. I don’t know who put my name in the Goblet of Fire, because I didn’t. The other Hogwarts champion is Cedric Diggory, from Hufflepuff._

Harry paused. He so desperately wished he could put into words the crushing feeling he felt within his chest, and the empty ache within his heart, but he couldn’t. Harry simply ended off with:

_Hope you’re ok, and Buckbeak - Harry_

“Finished,” he told Hermione as he got to his feet, brushing dust off his robes.

He peered around at the owls fluttering above his head. Hedwig swooped down and gracefully landed before Harry, sticking her leg out.

“Sorry girl,” Harry said quietly, “But I can’t use you.”

A barn owl landed before Harry, and Harry attached the parchment to its leg. As it soared away, Hedwig, clicked her beak disapprovingly.

Harry bent down to stroke her, and yelped as Hedwig nipped at his fingers roughly.

“Not you too,” Harry said angrily. “First Ron, then Fred, and now you! _This isn’t my fault!_ ”

Despite the Gryffindors being ecstatic that he was chosen as a champion, the rest of the school was not as eager, seen evidently the next day when class resumed.

It seemed like the rest of the school was against him, shooting glares at Harry and whispering to each other as he passed them. Harry held his head up and did his best to ignore them. After all, this wasn’t the first time the school united in solidarity against him.

But as Harry attended class, the disdain the school now held for him became all the much clearer. The Hufflepuffs, who typically got on rather well with the Gryffindors, were cold and avoided the Gryffindors like they had Dragon Pox. No doubt the sting of their victory being shared with someone else had dampened Hufflepuff Gryffindor relationships. Harry didn’t blame them. Hufflepuffs have always been the laughing stock of Hogwarts, so to have Cedric chosen as a champion must have felt like they finally got the representation they needed. And of course, Harry ruined it.

Ernie Macmillan, and Justin Finch-Fletchey who typically got on well with Harry, barely spared him a glance - though they did cackle rather loudly as Harry was smacked across the face by a Bouncing Bulb. Even Professor Sprout seemed distant.

Ron yelped loudly as a Hufflepuff _accidentally_ tipped a jar of Bulbs over, causing the Bulbs to skip over the floor, wacking a few Gryffindor student’s shins in the process.

Professor Sprout sighed loudly.

“That will be all for today, then. Potter, stay back and clean these up.”

Hermione and Ron looked up surprisedly.

“But Professor,” Hermione said, “It was Susan who-“

“Dismissed Miss Granger!” Professor Sprout said sharply.

Harry waved Hermione and Ron on, as he crouched down to grab the wriggling purple Bulbs.

After ten minutes, of desperately wrangling the little buggers, Harry deposited the last one into its jar and got to his feet, rubbing his sore knees.

“Done Professor.”

Professor Sprout dismissed him with a mere nod, not even bothering to look in his direction.

Harry walked out, suppressing the urge to rip his hair out. As he glumly stalked across the courtyard, a gratingly nasal voice greeted him.

“Why so tense, Potter?” Malfoy sneered, perched up a tree.

Harry shook his head as he strode on. How the hell did Malfoy even get up that tree? And were him and his goons just _waiting_ for him?

“I’ve got a better with Father, you see. He doesn’t think you’d last ten minutes in the Tournament. I don’t think you’d last five.”

Malfoy’s voice stopped him in his tracks.

Harry spun around to see Malfoy hop off the tree and smile smugly at Crabbe and Goyle. The balloon of anger in his chest expanded and expanded until Harry found it quite hard to breathe as he glared at Malfoy. Without thinking, he felt his feet move him forward towards Malfoy, and with a big heaving breath, he shoved Malfoy. Malfoy stumbled backwards, and looked up at Harry, with something almost akin to fear.

“I don’t give a damn what your Father thinks!” Harry snarled. “He’s vile and cruel. And you’re just pathetic.”

Harry turned around and stormed off. Suddenly behind him, Harry felt a whoosh if cold air air, followed by the terrified shrieks of Crabbe and Goyle.

Spinning around, Harry was confused to see Moody using his wand to bounce a white ferret up and down.

“Oh no you don’t sonny!” he barked. “That’ll teach you to curse someone when their back is turned!”

And with a cruel stab of delight, Harry realised that the ferret was in fact, _Malfoy_.

The students populating the courtyard joined in with Harry, letting out bursts of raucous laughter at the sight before them.

Moody chuckled gleefully as Malfoy squeaked.

“Professor Moody, what on Earth are you doing?” Professor McGonagall said alarmedly as she hurried over.

“Teaching,” Moody said simply, as he tried to get Malfoy to crawl down Crabbe’s trousers.

“T-teaching?” Professor McGonagall yelped. “You mean to tell me that’s a student?!”

“Technically it’s a ferret.” Moody leaned back to wink at Harry, who sniggered.

“Professor Moody,” McGonagall sputtered, “This is- unacceptable! We do not under _any_ circumstances use Transfiguration as a punishment! Surely Professor Dumbledore told you! We deduct house points or award detention.”

And with a swift flick of McGonagall’s wand, Malfoy the ferret was no more. In his place, was a very disheveled, very furious boy.

“My Father will hear about this!” he spat, as he crawled to his feet.

“Is that a threat?!” Moody roared as he chased Malfoy around the tree. “I could tell you stories about you Father, that would make even your greasy hair curl.”

“Alastor,” McGonagall said sharply.

Moody stopped chasing Malfoy and watched him scurry across the courtyard, Crabbe and Goyle in tow. He walked up to McGonagall, who stared up at him furiously.

“Moody, you might do well to remember that we never use Transfiguration as a punishment,” McGonagall said sternly.

Moody nodded, but as McGonagall walked turned her back on him, he stuck his tongue out at her.

Harry giggled, still in disbelief at what he just witnessed. As he turned to walk through the rest of the courtyard, he was stopped by Cedric.

“Hey Harry,” he said. His tone was a bit softer than it usually was. Harry couldn’t figure out why, until he caught sight of Cedric’s friends glaring daggers at Harry.

“I just want to say sorry,” Cedric said, lowering his voice down to a whisper. “It’s not fair how they’re treating you.”

“That’s alright,” Harry said. “I’m used to it.” Harry felt numb, as he heard the words coming from his own mouth. He grinned, trying to brush off his words, but the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Cedric stared at Harry, with sympathy in his eyes. Harry hated it.

“Well- uh... I actually came to uh- give you this,” Cedric said, extending his hand. Nestled in his palm, was a silver chain, and hovering about two centimetres above his hand, was a broom pendant that whizzed around merrily.

“You fixed it!” Harry exclaimed. “That was fast!”

Harry picked up the necklace and fastened it around his neck, looking down joyfully as the broom did a loop-de-loop, before bumping into Harry’s chest playfully.

“Well honestly,” Cedric said sheepishly, “It wasn’t all that difficult to repair. It just needed a slightly stronger _Reparo_ spell.”

“Ah. Well... thank you for fixing it. I really appreciate it.”

Cedric shifted on the spot uncomfortably. He peered around to see if anybody was listening.

“Have you fixed your relationship with... that person?”

Harry’s mood soured once more.

“No. I think I’ve messed it up even more. I got drunk last night and I’m sure I said or did something because h- they can’t even look at me.”

Nodding sympathetically, Cedric clapped Harry’s arm.

“I’m sure that you’ll be able to work something out. Don’t worry about it.”

“Thank you Cedric.”

Harry smiled genuinely at Cedric, before tucking his pendant under his shirt and walking into the corridor bordering the courtyard.

But, Harry had barely taken ten steps, before getting stopped once more.

“Potter, could I speak to you for a moment?”

Harry fought down the urge to groan.

“Sorry Professor, it’s just that I haven’t had lunch yet and I-“

“-This won’t take long.”

Harry reluctantly followed Moody as he clunked his way into a deserted corridor. Sticking his head out, and peering from side-to-side, Moody dragged Harry further into the corridor.

“I will teach you about the Unforgivable Curses.”

Dumbfounded, Harry just stared up at Moody.

“Well, wipe the drool off your chin boy!” Moody barked. “Are you interested or not?”

“I’m interested, I’m interested!” Harry rushed to say. _This was his chance!_ Harry gleefully thought about showing Fred and George what he was worth, and gaining back their trust. He pictured the look on their faces, when he would hand them a box _full_ of the most amazing products they’d have ever seen. Plus, now that he was in a deadly competition, it wouldn’t hurt to try to get a leg up, considering he was at a clear disadvantage, being the youngest of the bunch.

“Good to hear it, Potter,” Moody said. “You need all the help you can get going into this Tournament. Not to mention the fact, that you-know-who is gonna take every opportunity to kill you! Constant vigilance, Potter! I just know one of his followers is behind this...”

“Thanks Professor,” Harry gulped.

“We mustn’t hold our sessions yet, Potter” Moody growled, looking as students walked past them. “I must prepare. But he ready.”

And with that he clunked off, shooting looks left and right, before stomping off down the corridor.

The next few days at Hogwarts felt like some of the worst Harry had experienced. The only days that had come close to being as bad, were during his second year when everyone thought he was the heir of Slytherin. But even then, he had Ron, Fred, and George. Now it felt like the only person on his side was Hermione.

“Come on Harry, concentrate!” Hermione urged.

Harry had been so miserable of late, that he’d been putting in no effort during his classes. He’d been the only person, besides Neville, to get extra homework during Charms, a lesson which he typically did well in.

“I am concentrating,” Harry mumbled, watching as Cedric walked past him, a group of simpering girls hot on his heel.

Lately, it was hard to tell which was more loved, Krum, or Cedric. Either way, the same girls asking Krum to sign his name using their lipstick, were also begging Cedric to sign their book bags.

“It’s really not that difficult Harry,” Hermione continued, pointing fervently at the notes strewn on the table in front of them.

“Just- forget it Hermione. Besides it’s time for Double Potions now.”

To say that Double Potions was torture would be an understatement.

Being shut in a dungeon for an hour and a half with Snape and a group of Slytherins? Harry would much rather take on whatever the Triwizard Tournament wanted to throw at him.

As Hermione and Harry strolled down the dimly lit corridor towards the Potions classroom, a group of Slytherins stopped them. They each wore a badge on their robes, and for a second Harry thought they were S.P.E.W. badges, until he read the red letters that glowed in the dim light.

_Support CEDRIC DIGGORY- the REAL Hogwarts Champion!_

“Like them, Potter?” Malfoy smirked as Harry drew closer. “And that’s not all they do.”

He pressed the badge, and new lettering appeared, glowing green:

_POTTER STINKS_

The Slytherins all howled with laughter, each of them pressing their badge until the corridor glowed green, illuminated by their _POTTER STINKS_ badges.

“Oh yes, very funny,” Hermione said sarcastically to Pansy Parkinson and her gang of harpies, who were laughing harder than anyone else. “So very _witty_.”

Ron, who was leaning against a wall, simply watched on. He wasn’t laughing with them, but he wasn’t helping either.

“Do you want one Granger?” Malfoy grinned, holding a badge out to Hermione. “Don’t worry, I’ve got loads. But be careful not to touch my hand. I’ve just washed it and I don’t want a Mudblood sliming it up.”

In a fit of protective fury, Harry drew his wand, brandishing it at Malfoy with a shaky hand as though it were a knife.

“Well... go on then,” Malfoy sneered, brandishing his own wand. “Moody’s not around to help you now.”

They stared into each other’s eyes, and acted at exactly the same moment.

_”Furnunculus!”_

_”Densaugeo!”_

The voices echoed around the corridor, and beams of light shot from their wands. The beams met in mid-air and ricocheted off at different angles.

One hit Goyle smack dab in the face, while the other one hit Hermione square in the mouth.

Goyle yelped, desperately grabbing his face as boils sprouted all over his face. Hermione clutched at her mouth and wailed.

“Hermione!”

Ron had hurried over.

He dragged Hermione’s hand from her mouth, and gasped at the sight. Her two front teeth were growing at an alarming rate. They were extending past her bottom lip and reaching her chin. She now bore an unfortunate resemblance to a beaver.

“What exactly is going on here?” a soft voice asked. Snape has come up behind them, his eyes gleaming dangerously under his mop of greasy hair.

“Potter attacked me!”

“We attacked each other at the same time!”

“Look what he’s done to Goyle sir!”

“Well, look what he’s done to Hermione!”

Snape examines Goyle, and dismisses him with a flick of the wrist.

“Go to the Hospital wing, Goyle.”

“Well look at Hermione sir!” Ron said, pushing Hermione forward.

Snape stared at Hermione coldly.

“I see no difference.”

Hermione whimpered, and ran off with her eyes filling with tears, clutching her teeth which had extended past her collar.

It was quite lucky that Ron and Harry started shouting at Snape at the same time. Their insults blended together, and echoed around the corridor, rendering their words rather unintelligible. Snape got the gist of it, however.

“Let’s see...” Snape said with a sneer once they’d finished, “Fifty points from Gryffindor, and detentions for the both of you.”

Shaking with anger, Harry and Ron both stormed into the classroom. Harry slammed his book bag on the table, and was pleased to see Ron was just as furious as he was. It was almost like thinks had gone back to normal. But then Ron turned around to sit with Dean and Seamus, leaving Harry alone, and the illusion disappeared.

Across the classroom, Malfoy smirked and pressed his badge once more. _POTTER STINKS_ glowing across the classroom.

As class started, Harry fixed his eyes on Snape. Oh the horrible things he wished he could do to Snape. Moody was teaching him about the Unforgivable Curses. Perhaps one day Harry could corner Snape, and cast the Cruciatus Curse on him. Oh, the pleasure Harry would get from watching Snape writhe about in agony like that spider.

And then a knock on the dungeon door snapped Harry out of his thoughts. Harry spun around frightenedly. So vivid his thoughts were, he was afraid that someone else had heard them and was now getting ready to ship him off to Azkaban.

Thankfully, it was only Colin Creevey.

“Sir, they’re asking for Harry Potter upstairs,” Colin chirped.

“Is that so...” Snape said dangerously, “He can come upstairs once class is finished.”

“Well sir...” Colin said nervously, the smile fading from his face, “Its Mr Bagman... They want to take photographs of the Champions-“

Harry winced. He wished so desperately he could’ve have stopped those last words from leaving Colin’s mouth. He glanced at Ron, who was staring blankly at his table.

“Fine, get out of my sight then, Potter!” Snape snapped.

Harry grabbed his bag and hurried out of the classroom, Colin in tow.

“So uhh... What’re the photos for?” Harry asked as they climbed up the stairs.

“The _Daily Prophet_ , I think!”

“Brilliant,” Harry said dryly.

“Good luck!” Colin chirped as they reached a door.

Harry slowly pushed his way inside and found himself in a small classroom.

The desks had all been pushed to the side, save for three which were placed side-by-side in front of the blackboard, and covered by a black velvet tablecloth.

A tall witch Harry had never seen before was scribbling furiously onto a piece of parchment as she spoke with Ludo Bagman, who was sat behind one of the tables.

Krum was sulking alone as per usual, while Cedric and Fleur chatted

Fleur looked remarkably happy, flicking her hair back every time she let out a light tinkling laugh at Cedric’s words. She looked radiant, her silver hair reflecting the sunlight. Harry couldn’t help but notice with disdain, how enraptured Cedric seemed to be with her, as he animatedly acted out what seemed to be a dramatic wand fight.

Bagman suddenly noticed Harry, and jumped to his feet, bounding towards him. “Ah there you are Harry! Champion number four! In you come, in you come... nothing to be worried about, the Wand Weighing ceremony shall commence shortly.”

“Wand Weighing?” Harry said nervously.

“Oh don’t worry, it’s just protocol to check if you wands are fully functional.”

“Harry Potter did you say?”

The unfamiliar witch had stepped forward, a deadly flint in her eye. Her blonde hair was perfectly coiffed, bright red lipstick stained her lips, and pink rouge sat high on her cheeks.

As she extended her hand, Harry noticed her scarlet fingernails were long, and sharpened to a point.

“This is Rita Skeeter,” Bagman said as Harry shook her hand, “She’s doing a small piece on the Tournament for the _Daily Prophet_.”

“Now, now, Ludo, it’s not _that_ small.”

Her eyes remained on Harry, her gaze predatory.

“I wonder if I could have a short word with Harry. The youngest champion... could add some colour to the article.”

“Er-”

“Of course! I’m sure Harry would love to!”

“Lovely-“ and she was pulling him into a small room.

“There, much cozier. Far away from all the noise.”

Harry blinked confusedly. They were in a broom closet.

“Now Harry, I hope you won’t mind if I use a Quick-Quotes Quill,” she said, rummaging through her bag. “It’ll leave me free to talk to you normally.”

“A what?”

A grin spread across her face. She pulled out a long acid green quill, along with a roll of parchment. She placed the tip of the quill into her mouth and sucked on, closing her eyes in apparent relish, then placed it onto the parchment, where it stood upright.

“Testing... my name is Rita Skeeter, _Daily Prophet_ reporter.”

The quill had started to move, frantically scribbling across the parchment:

_Attractive blonde Rita Skeeter, forty-three, whose savage quill has punctured many inflated reputations-_

“Lovely,” she said, ripping the top piece of parchment off. “Now, what made you decide to enter the Tournament?”

With a sinking heart, Harry realised how the interview was going to go.

“Er-“ Harry said, distracted by the quill. Craning his neck, he managed to make out a sentence:

_An ugly scar mars the otherwise charming face of Harry Potter, a painful reminder of his past._

“Ignore it,” Rita Skeeter said sharply, “Why did you decide to enter the Tournament?”

“I didn’t.” Harry said insistently.

“Oh there’s nothing to be afraid of, Harry. Our readers love a rebel-“

“I didn’t enter!”

“Very well...” she said irately.

Just then, Harry’s broomstick necklace decided it was a good time to make an entrance. It peeked over Harry’s collar, before quickly ducking back under his shirt.

It only appeared for half a second, but Rita Skeeter’s sharp gaze caught it.

“Now, what was that?” she asked, gazing intently at Harry’s chest. Feeling uncomfortable, Harry crosses his arms over his chest.

“It was just a necklace someone gave me...”

“Someone, you say?” she asked, her eyes glimmering. “Now would you say you are close to this... someone...”

The quill picked up in speed, and Harry caught what it was scribbling down:

_Delicately clutching a beautiful silver broomstick necklace, Harry Potter smiles as he reminisces about the person who gave him the necklace. While he refuses to name her, it is clear in his gaze how special this girl is to him-_

“Hey, stop!” Harry shouted angrily.

“Just focus on me, Harry,” Rita Skeeter insisted, a wide smile on her face. “Now, do you want to return to why you entered the Tournament? Would you say that you were... perhaps seeking validation from your peers? I mean, someone with your reputation would have a lot to live up to.”

“Wha- Hey! My eyes aren’t glimmering with the ghosts of my past!”

The door to the broom closet swung open, filling it with light. Harry blinked rapidly as his eyes adjusted to the bright light. Dumbledore stood before them.

“ _Dumbledore_!” she exclaimed, a honey sweet smile on her face as she quickly stuffed her quill and parchment into her bag. “Well I’d best be off! Suppose the ceremony is starting.”

Harry followed her, very glad for that horrid interview to be over.

The other champions were seated in chairs near the door, and Harry hurriedly took a seat next to Cedric, who shot him a sympathetic look. Four of the five judges were seated at the velvet lined tables, and Rita Skeeter had taken a seat in a corner. She once again withdrew her parchment and quill, sticking the quill between her lips again, before setting it atop the parchment once more.

“Now, allow me to introduce Mr Ollivander,” said Dumbledore, who had taken his place at the judges table.

Harry looked around with a jolt of surprise to see a pale, frail wizard with milky eyes. Harry himself had bought his wand from Ollivander almost three years ago.

“Mademoiselle Delacour, could we have you forward first, please?” Mr Ollivander said, stepping into the empty space in the middle of the room.

And one by one, he checked their wands, examining them closely, before casting a spell with them.

Harry nervously awaited his turn, very aware of every scratch that adorned his wand.

Finally, his turn came. Harry hoped, and prayed that Ollivander didn’t mention anything about how he and Voldemort shared the same wand cores. Harry couldn’t even imagine how fast Rita Skeeter’s quill would be scribbling if that happened.

After very close scrutiny however, Ollivander merely shot a fountain of wine out of Harry’s wand, and dismissed him.

Harry gratefully got up to leave, but was frantically stopped by a man with a camera. After an excruciatingly long time taking photos, all of which Harry smiled painfully in, they were free to go.

Walking off to the Great Hall together, Cedric cleared his throat.

“I heard about the badges... I just want to say that I had absolutely nothing to do with that. I’ve been trying to get people to throw them out but nobody listens.”

“It’s ok Cedric,” Harry chuckled, “I know you had nothing to do with them. I mean, I know you would’ve come up with something better than _POTTER STINKS_.”

Cedric joined Harry in laughing, his eyes crinkling at the sides.

As their laughter died down, Harry huffed.

“You know that Skeeter woman, I swear she’s going to write the _worst_ article about me. She saw my necklace and wrote stuff about how my beloved girlfriend gave it to me. Ridiculous right?!”

Cedric nodded sympathetically.

“Yes, Rita Skeeter does have a... reputation. I mean, she wrote that Dumbledore is an obsolete dingbat! I’m afraid there’s not much you can do.”

“I suppose so...” Harry sighed. As they entered the Great Hall, they parted ways to have their dinner.

Hermione was no where in sight. Harry assumed she was still in the Hospital wing getting her teeth fixed.

Harry sat there alone, eating his dinner, before returning to the Gryffindor tower, intending to work on his extra Charms homework.

In the dormitory, he encountered Ron.

“You have an owl,” Ron said brusquely.

Harry looked, and sure enough, a barn owl was perched on his pillow. Ron got up, and strode straight out of the room. Harry pondered whether or not he should go after Ron- whether to talk to him, or smack him, it felt appealing either way- but the lure of Sirius’ letter was too strong to resist. Harry unfurled the piece of parchment and read:

_Harry-_  
_I can’t say everything I would like to in a letter, it’s too risky in case the owl is intercepted- we need to talk, face to face. Can you ensure that you are alone by the fire in Gryffindor Tower at one o’clock in the morning on the 22nd November?  
_ _I know better than anyone that you can look after yourself, and while you’re around Dumbledore and Moody I don’t think anyone will be able to hurt you. However, someone seems to be having a good try. Entering you in that Tournament would have been very risky, especially right under Dumbledore’s nose._  
_Be on the watch, Harry. I still want to hear about anything unusual. Let me know about the 22nd November as quickly as you can.  
_ _Sirius_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Firstly I just want to apologise for how long this chapter took, I’ve been busy with other things, and secondly, I want to thank all of you for your kind comments! Unfortunately I haven’t really had the time to go through and reply to all of them, but I’ve read each comment, and I want you all to know they mean so much to me! I really do appreciate all of the love and support you’ve given me <3


	19. Just a Load of Scary Dragons

The prospect of seeing Sirius seemed to be the only glimmer of hope within Harry’s increasingly dismal life. His reputation within the school didn’t seem to improve at all, in fact the whispers as he walked through hallways seemed to increase threefold with each passing day. His determination to be able to see Sirius led to him concocting a highly convoluted plan with Hermione, that would ensure that the common room would be cleared out by 1 o’clock. Worse come to worse, Harry and Hermione unanimously agreed to set off a bag of dung bombs. This would undoubtedly lead to them being flayed by Filch, but Harry decided it was worth it.

Harry kept this little piece of hope with him for the next few days... until Rita Skeeter’s article came out. The article was not so much about the Tournament as it was Harry’s autobiography.

The front page had been mostly taken up by an obscenely large picture of Harry and the other names of the champions had been squashed into the last page, grossly misspelled. Cedric wasn’t even mentioned.

Harry furiously skimmed through his copy of the article, his fists gripping the paper so tightly it crumpled up.

The Slytherins ate all of it up of course. 

Whenever he passed by a group of the contemptible snakes, he endured a barrage of sneering comments with gritted teeth.

“Aw what’s wrong Potter?” Malfoy cooed. “Going off to cry about your dead parents? You should take this hanky.”

As Harry continued on stoically, Malfoy hopped off the step he was perched on and ran in front of Harry, cutting him off.

“There’s no shame in crying Potter,” he sniggered, “I’m sure your love understands when you get a little teary when you snog. Of course, the female Weasley must be used to simpering cowards after being born in such a traitorous family-“

“-Enough!” Harry snarled, glaring at Malfoy. 

Harry’s chest tightened and his breath quickened as he gripped his wand, staring down Malfoy coldly. Malfoy’s eyes widened and he scurried off back to his lackeys.

Harry continued to fix Malfoy with an ice cold scowl, when someone spoke up behind him.

“Hey- Harry?”

“Yes that’s right,” Harry said hotly, spinning around to face them, “I’ve been crying my eyes out over my dead parents, in fact, I’m heading over to a closet right now to cry some more-”

“Well it’s just... You dropped your quill.”

It was Cedric. Harry immediately felt his face burn up.

“Sorry for that... It’s just been... You know...”

“It’s ok Harry, I understand,” Cedric said, smiling sweetly. He didn’t seem at all upset about his success being overshadowed by Harry’s sob story.

“Good luck for Tuesday, yeah?” he said.

“Yeah, er... Good luck for Tuesday too.” Harry replied, flustered.

Harry was glad at least one relationship of his hadn’t been soiled.

He’d hoped that he and Ron would make up during their two hour detention, unfortunately that was the day Rita Skeeter’s article came out and it seemed to confirm to him that Harry was enjoying the attention.

This was how Harry and Hermione came to be sat in a corner of the Three Broomsticks alone, with Hermione nagging Harry to reconcile with Ron as Harry glumly, sat silently, his invisibility cloak draped over his body. Well, it certainly wasn’t for a lack of trying. Wasn’t Harry’s fault that Ron was a git. Besides, Harry did want Ron back. 

Hermione, as wonderful as she was, didn’t understand Harry the way Ron did. There was a teeth-grittingly frustrating moment in the Library the other day, when Krum walked past them in the Library, with his noisy groupies not far behind.

“Honestly,” Hermione hissed. “He’s not even that good looking. I’m sure they’d all pay him no mind if he couldn’t do that Wonky Faint thingy.”

“Wronski Feint,” Harry said, through clenched teeth. It wasn’t just the lack of Quidditch knowledge that irritated Harry to no end, it was the fact that he knew Ron would collapse in laughter if he told him what Hermione had said...

No matter how much Harry denied it... He missed Ron...

“Look, it’s Hagrid!” Hermione said.

Hagrid’s bush of shaggy hair was easily noticeable over the heads of the other patrons. Harry stood up to look, careful to make sure that the Invisibility Cloak still covered him. Hagrid was conversing with Moody, occasionally taking a swig from his usual gigantic tankard. Moody also stopped every now and then to drink from his hip flask. Madam Rosmerta who was weaving in between tables shot a scowl at Moody. No doubt she saw his behaviour as an insult to her signature mulled mead. 

Hagrid and Moody rose to their feet and Harry waved goodbye to them, before realising they couldn’t see him. Harry abashedly sat back down, but Moody seemed to notice something. His blue eye spun around to focus on Harry, and Moody grinned, tapping Hagrid on the shoulder and whispered to him, leading him towards Harry and Hermione.

“All righ’ Hermione?” Hagrid said loudly.

“Hello,” Hermione replied with a smile.

Moody limped over to the other side of the table, and as he leant over, Harry thought he was examining Hermione’s butter beer, until he whispered, “Nice cloak, Potter.”

Harry gawped at Moody in amazement. Moody grinned and winked at Harry.

“Can your eye- I mean, can you-?”

“Yeah, it can see through Invisibility Cloaks. Comes in useful at times, I can tell you.”

Hagrid beamed down at Harry, obviously he was unable to see Harry but Moody had clearly told him where Harry was.

Hagrid now bent down with the pretext of tying his shoe and said lowly, “Harry, meet me at 11 o’clock tonight at me cabin. Bring yer’ cloak.”

“And afterwards, meet me at the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom,” Moody added on, his eyes gleaming. “No better time to start our lessons than right now.”

Both of them straightened up and bid Hermione goodbye, and Hagrid shot a cheeky wink at Harry before leaving, with Moody in tow.

“They both want to meet me tomorrow, at 11 o’clock,” Harry said puzzledly.

“What, why?” Hermione asked.

“No clue,” Harry half-lied.

“Well, I’m not sure if you should go Harry. It’s might make you late for...” Hermione looked around cautiously, “It might make you late for Sirius.”

“Well, I doubt either of them are giving me a choice,” Harry said grimly.

At half past 10, Harry was already changed and ready to go. Unable to keep waiting, Harry draped the Invisibility Cloak over himself and snuck out of his dorm.

A few people were still lingering in the common room, two of which were the Creevey brothers who were frustratedly trying to get the _Support CEDRIC DIGGORY_ badges to say _Support HARRY POTTER_ instead. Unfortunately all they’d managed to accomplish was get the badges stuck on _POTTER STINKS_.

Harry tip toed past them and hoped the common room would clear out by 1 o’clock. His dung bomb plan really didn’t seem as ideal anymore.

Harry waited by the portrait anxiously, tapping his feet and checking his watch. Finally, the portrait swung open and Hermione strode in, staring ahead blankly. 

Harry whispered a quiet, _“Thanks”_ , to her before scurrying out of the portrait hole, and down to Hagrid’s hut. 

He knocked on the door only once, before Hagrid opened the door, and Harry scrambled inside.

“So, what is it?” Harry asked, removing the Invisibility Cloak.

“Got summat to show yeh,” Hagrid replied excitedly.

Hagrid seemed to have attempted to dress up again. While he had given up on the axle grease, he’d evidently attempted to brush his hair as Harry spotted remnants of a comb in his bushy hair. He also had what looked like an artichoke tucked into his buttonhole.

“What is it Hagrid?” Harry asked wearily. “Really, this cant take long because I still need to meet Moody after this and I need to be back at the castle by one.”

But, Hagrid wasn’t listening as a two loud raps on the door drew his attention away. He walked up to the door and gestured for Harry to cover himself up again, before swinging the door open. 

Madame Maxine stood there, a silk shawl wrapped around her shoulders.

“Ah... ‘Agrid... It is time?”

“Bong-sewer,” Hagrid beamed, leading her down the steps and into the forest. 

Harry scurried after them, doing his best to minimise the crunch of his footsteps on the forest floor, lest Madame Maxine hear. 

After several minutes trudging through the dark woods, Harry wanted to just up and leave. He harrumphed as he saw Madame Maxine whisper something salacious into Hagrid’s ear, causing him to turn beet red. 

The moon reflecting beautiful silver light off the leaves and the peaceful chirp of crickets did nothing to soothe Harry’s irritability. _”Can’t believe Hagrid brought me out here, in the middle of the night, for nothing!”_ Harry grumbled to himself.

Just as Harry was getting ready to turn around and leave, he heard something that made him pause.

“Ah, ‘ere we are,” Hagrid said chirpily, leading Madame Maxine begins a bush.

Harry might have been mistaken, but what he heard sounded remarkably similar to a dragon’s roar.

Hurrying after Hagrid, he ducked under the bush, and his jaw dropped.

Four, fully sized dragons were in cages, roaring and spitting fire at thirty or so wizards and witches who scrambled around frantically. The cages they were in bent dangerously every time the dragons shoved at the bars. Seven witches and wizards per dragon were holding the creatures back, planting their feet in the dirt and pulling at chains attached to the creatures necks. 

“Stay back Hagrid!” one wizard yelled. “They can shoot fire 20 feet! I’ve seen this Horntail do 40!”

“Blimey,” Hagrid said dreamily.

“Ok, Stunning Spells on the count of three!”

 _”Stupefy!”_ they all yelled in unison. The ground shook as each of the gigantic beasts slumped to the floor.

“All right, Hagrid?” the Wizard called out.

As he stepped closer, Harry instantly recognised the bright carrot red hair. It was Charlie Weasley.

“What breeds you got here?” Hagrid said, staring at the dragons, who were being wrapped in chains, completely enthralled.

“That there, is the Hungarian Horntail,” Charlie said, pointing at the closest dragon to them. It was black, spikes sprouting from its scaly skin. As the dragon keepers turned it on it’s side, it’s light yellow underbelly was revealed. As Harry’s eyes flicked up to it’s face, he could have sworn that he saw yellow eyes peering from under its half closed eyelids. But before Harry could do a double take, the dragon keepers had stepped in front of the dragon and were gently pushing its cage off to a corner of the enclosure.

Harry tuned back in to Charlie and Hagrid’s conversation just to hear Charlie say, “I think the champions just need to get past them. We’ll be on hand with extinguishing spells in case things get... nasty. They asked for nesting mothers and I’m not quite sure why, but all I know is I pity the person who gets the Hungarian Horntail. Vicious thing. It’s end’s as dangerous as it’s front.”

Harry glanced back at the Horntail, and noted in horror, it’s spiked tail.

“Hope Harry’ll be fine after this lot,” Charlie said worriedly. “Mum’s been having an absolute fit over him ever since that _Daily Prophet_ came out.” Charlie raised his voice to mimic his mother’s high pitched wails. _”How could they let him enter? He’s far too young! Oh the poor dear I had no idea he still cried about his parents!”_

Harry had heard enough. He checked his watch. It was 5 minutes to 12 o’clock. If he hurried, he could squeeze a one hour lesson with Moody, and make it back in time for Sirius.

Briskly walking through the halls, Harry arrived at the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, and knocked nervously, keeping his cloak on in case someone other than Moody was in the classroom.

Sure enough, Harry heard the tell tale sound of Moody’s wooden leg as he limped across the classroom. Moody swung open the door and fixed Harry with a stare, before ushering him into the classroom.

“I trust that Hagrid showed you what you’re up against?” Moody growled, as he took a swig from his hip flask.

“Yeah.. He did,” Harry replied. “Surely using dragons aren’t allowed?”

“Well, they are,” Moody said grimly. “And I’m afraid that people will use this as an opportunity to kill you.”

“But... who would want to kill me?” Harry said puzzledly.

“Better question is who _wouldn’t_ want to kill you,” Moody chuckled darkly. “Many of you-know-who’s followers would find killing Harry Potter the ultimate sign of devotion to their master. And you don’t know who you-know-who’s followers are. Trust no one.” Moody fixed Harry with an uncomfortably long stare, and Harry shifted about uncomfortably.

“So what are you teaching me today?”

Moody’s gaze finally flicked away from Harry as he spun around to grab something from the Teachers table.

“The Imperio Curse. The easiest of the three Unforgivable Curses to cast.” Moody revealed what was nestled in his hand. It was a small black bird that chirped weakly. It hardly looked like it was strong enough to feed itself.

“Potter, I want you to make it fly.”

Harry looked up alarmedly. The bird looked like a strong gust of wind would break it in two. Forcing that bird to fly might as well be forcing it to it’s death.

“Don’t worry Potter,” Moody said gently, “You won’t hurt it.”

With unsteady hands, Harry pointed his wand at the bird, and shakily said, _”Imperio.”_

Harry focused on envisioning the bird flying, seeing its frail body rise up into the hair. But after a minute of concentration, Harry just gave himself a headache. The bird remained stationary in Moody’s palm.

“I can’t do it, Professor,” Harry said miserably.

“Yes you can, Potter,” Moody said sharply. “You just aren’t in the right space.”

“I’m... not?” Harry said confusedly.

“You see, to cast an Unforgivable Curse, you’ve got to mean it. Joy, and hope, and desperation can be good motivators. But hate is the easiest to conjure. Think, Potter. What do you hate most.”

Harry fixed his eyes on the bird again, and imagined Snape in its place. The bird sneered at him contemptuously. He heard Snape’s voice echo in his head, and arms shaking, but this time with rage, Harry shouted out, _”Imperio!”_

_”Fly,”_ Harry heard himself think. _”Raise that weak, pathetic body of yours and fly!”_

The bird twitched to life in Moody’s palms, and flapping its wings, it flew up wobbily, hovering a few inches over Moody’s hands. It twittered frantically as it’s too small wings struggled to keep it in the air.

Harry gasped and dropped his wand, and as it clattered to the ground, the bird tumbled out of the air and landed in Moody’s palms. 

“Well done, Potter,” Moody said, placing the bird into a small gold gilded cage.

“I can’t believe I just did that,” Harry heaved.

“Well, you did,” Moody said, with what seemed like a hint of pride in his voice. “You’ve got a long way to go, but I dare say you’ll be a match for any dark wizards that come your way.”

Harry beamed, but a soft vibration from his watch prompted him to check the time. He jumped up in shock. Almost an hour had passed. It was five minutes to one o’clock. He had to get back to the common room _now_.

“Well thank you Professor, but if best he off now,” Harry hurried, tossing the Invisibility Cloak back over himself. “I don’t want to caught out of bed.”

“Yes, goodnight, Potter. You did well.”

Harry shot one last smile at Moody, before sprinting out of the door and back to the Gryffindor common room. 

“Balderdash,” he whispered breathlessly to the fat lady, who was snoring.

“If you say so,” she mumbled, and the portrait swung open. Harry tossed his cloak aside and threw himself into an armchair by the fire. The room was dark, only illuminated by the flames that danced in front of Harry. Strewn on a table were the _Support CEDRIC DIGGORY_ badges that the Creevey brothers had been trying to change. They now said _POTTER REALLY STINKS_.

Harry looked back at the fireplace and jumped. If he hadn’t seen Amos Diggory in the Weasleys’ fireplace, he would have thought himself mad.

Sirius’ head was sitting in the fireplace, disappearing occasionally as the logs crackled.

“How are you, Harry?” Sirius asked worriedly.

“Fine,” Harry replied. Harry was delighted to see that Sirius looked much more healthy than he did when Harry had last saw him. His hair which was once long and matted, had been trimmed and looked neat. His cheeks, which were once sunken in and gaunt, had filled out, and his eyes which were dark and empty, now had a sparkle in them.

“How’ve you been, Sirius, how’s Buckbeak?”

“Oh, we’ve been fine,” Sirius chuckled. His laughter faded as he regarded Harry grimly. “Harry, I’m afraid Hogwarts isn’t safe for you anymore.”

“You don’t say,” Harry laughed. “I’ve almost died in this school more times than I can count!”

If Sirius was alarmed by the statement, he didn’t let it show. He merely continued on, saying, “There’s someone in Hogwarts who was a former Dark Wizard.”

Sirius must’ve expected Harry to be horrified at the news, as he quirked an eyebrow as Harry simply did a small nod.

“Moody’s already told me.”

“Ah,” Sirius sighed. “I should have expected. Well, did he tell you it’s Karkaroff?”

“Karkaroff?” Harry exclaimed in surprise, before pausing to think. “Well, I think it should have been quite obvious to me. Moody has had an... exceptional distrust of Karkaroff.”

“Well of course he would,” Sirius said, barking out a laugh. “Moody’s the one who caught him.”

“He is?”

“Yes,” Sirius said. “Moody’s taken down a fair number of Dark Wizards. About half of them are in Azkaban thanks to him.”

“Yeah I heard about that,” Harry said. “So, how did Karkaroff get free? Shouldn’t he still be in Azkaban? Did he escape?”

“Nothing as exciting as that, unfortunately,” Sirius answered, shaking his head. “Word is, he sold out a lot of his fellow Wizards in order to save his own skin. Well, it worked. He was declared “rehabilitated” and was released from Azkaban.”

“So, why would he be out to get me,” Harry said puzzledly, “If he’s reformed, and all.”

“Think about it Harry,” Sirius said patiently. “He must not exactly be the most popular wizard around, with betraying his people and all, so setting Harry Potter up for death would surely regain his favour. After all, killing the boy who destroyed their master would be the ultimate show of loyalty.”

“Oh. Well, I doubt Karkaroff would dare to try something direct, not with Dumbledore, and Moody, and all the other Ministry Wizards around. I’m just going to have to focus on surviving the Tournament.”

“Yes, speaking of, what do you know?” Sirius asked worriedly.

“Well, I know the first task is dragons. Hagrid showed me.”

“That’s ridiculous!” Sirius shouted. A few of the logs in the fireplace crackled loudly. “How on earth did the Ministry sign off on this?”

“Don’t worry about it, Sirius,” Harry said, looking around frantically to check whether anyone had heard the ruckus. “Moody’s taught me a spell that I think will be really useful against the dragon.”

“Really? What is it?”

“Imperio.”

“No!” Sirius said firmly, “You will _not_ use an Unforgivable Curse! Honestly, I thought Moody would have more sense than to teach a fourteen year old an Unforgivable Curse! If you do manage to learn it in time for your first task, you won’t get the cheers from the crowd you think you will. You’ll be sent straight to Azkaban!”

“Well I’ve already learnt it!” Harry shouted back. “I made a baby bird fly earlier tonight!”

Sirius’ face drew back slightly. 

“Harry... Please don’t do this. Unforgivable Curses are the most despicable spells. They will rot your soul. Harry, if I tell you how to defeat the dragon, will you promise to never use an Unforgivable Curse again.”

Harry nodded enthusiastically, and leaned closer to the fire, ignoring how his skin prickled at the heat. 

“All you need is one word. It’s-“

Footsteps tapped softly down the stairs

“Wait, I hear someone coming, _go, go!_ ” Harry hissed.

Sirius’s head disappeared with a _pop_.

Harry spun around to face the trespasser, and found himself face-to-face with Ron.

Ron scrubbed at his eyes and peered around the room. 

“I thought I heard something.”

“Of course you did,” Harry snapped irritably. He had been so close to finding out how to defeat the dragon, and of course Ron had to ruin it.

“Well, sorry,” Ron said sarcastically. “Next time ,I’ll just let you rehearse for your next interview in piece.”

Harry had had enough. He picked up a _POTTER STINKS_ badge and hurled it at Ron. It bounced off his forehead and clattered to the floor.

“There! You can wear that on Tuesday,” Harry spat. “Maybe if you’re lucky it’ll leave a scar. That’s what you want isn’t it?”

Harry turned away from Ron stormed up the stairs, furiously diving into his bed, and pulling the covers over his head.

Harry was so angry, that he didn’t notice that Ron, in his too small pyjamas, never followed Harry back upstairs. In fact, he never came up at all.


	20. Face-to-face with the Hungarian Horntail

For the umpteenth time, Harry woke up with a pit of dread in his stomach. Harry quickly got dressed, and rushed past Ron who was walking into the dorm blearily, ignoring Ron resolutely. Harry met Hermione at the foot of the stairs, and she stared at him concernedly, slamming the book in her hand shut.

“Not here,” Harry murmured, leading Hermione out of the portrait hole and down to the Great Hall. 

Harry ladled a generous amount of bacon onto his plate, before turning to Hermione and saying lowly, “The first challenge is dragons.”

Hermione choked on her toast, and Harry pounded on her back violently, causing a few disgruntled students to shoot glares at them.

After gulping down some orange juice, Hermione hissed, “What?!”

“Hagrid showed me last night,” Harry said glumly. “I’ve never seen creatures that big in my life.”

“Oh so that’s why Hagrid and Moody wanted to see you.”

“Er- yes...” Harry didn’t want to mention the details of his and Moody’s class. Hermione would just overreact.

“Oh, and Sirius! What did he say?”

Harry hushed Hermione, and glanced around, checking to see if anyone was listening. 

“Sirius told me that Karkaroff is a Death Eater!” Harry whispered.

“Really?” Hermione exclaimed. “Well... actually that makes a lot of sense! Of course, why didn’t I figure it out before! What are you going to do Harry?”

“I’m not sure,” he sighed. “I can’t exactly turn Karkaroff in. Nobody besides Moody would believe me.”

“Ok, don’t worry. Karkaroff wouldn’t dare to do anything, not with Dumbledore around,” Hermione said. “Let’s focus on the issue at hand, did Sirius tell you how to defeat the dragon?”

“No, but... don’t worry. I’ve got it handled,” Harry said quickly.

“Really, Harry?” Hermione asked perplexedly. “What on earth are you planning to do against a dragon?”

“Like I said, I’ve got it sorted,” Harry said brusquely.

Hermione frowned and returned to her toast.

Krum stomped past their table, his devoted followers in tow, and Harry was struck with a realisation. No doubt Fleur knew about the dragons, Madame Maxine had almost certainly told her. This left Krum and Cedric unsuspecting. Harry had to tell Cedric. It was just the right thing to do.

Harry had made up his mind, the next time he saw Cedric he’d tell him all about the dragons.

Turns out, that time came sooner than Harry expected.

As Harry trudged up the stairs to Divination. At the top of the stairs was none other than Cedric, surrounded by his friends. Harry ducked behind a pillar and eyed them nervously. It was truly unfortunate that a large number of Cedric’s friends partook in dramatically quoting Harry’s _Daily Prophet_ article at him.

Glancing down at Cedric’s book bag which was stuffed to the brim, an idea struck Harry.

Pointing his wand at Cedric’s bag, Harry whispered, _”Diffindo!”_

With a loud rip, Cedric’s bag split open, and it’s contents tumbled onto the floor. 

Cedric sighed and crouched down, sweeping away shards of glass from a shattered inkwell. 

“Go on,” he said, waving his friends on, “Tell Flitwick I’ll be late.”

Perfect.

As Cedric’s friends left, Harry hurried up behind Cedric and picked up a book, passing it to Cedric sheepishly. He’d have to get another bag for Cedric to make up for this.

“Oh, hello Harry,” Cedric smiled. “Don’t know what’s wrong with this bag, I just got it.”

“The first task is dragons,” Harry rushed out.

Cedric paused in his packing, and turned to Harry, mouth agape.

“Are you sure?” he asked softly, his voice barely audible over the bustle of the staircase.

Harry nodded.

“Oh... well...” Cedric paused, his eyes darting back and forth. “Can I ask where you learned this particular piece of information?”

“I suppose you could ask, but I wouldn’t tell you,” Harry quipped.

Cedric snorted, before his face fell once more.

“You should be heading to class now, don’t worry about my things, I’ve got it... Thanks for the help Harry.”

Harry nodded stiffly before walking away. He knew Cedric wasn’t talking about helping with his bag.

Over the next few days, the whispers surrounding him seemed to increase. Classmates sniggered at him and whispered things like, _”Don’t worry, Potter. I’ll have a box of tissues ready.”_

Harry tried to pay them no mind. He was busy desperately trying to enjoy his last few dragon free days.

To make things worse, there were rumours that the Weasley twins were behind a large betting pool. 

Harry couldn’t help but feel bitter whenever he saw sickles being exchanged in hallways, as eyes roved up and down him.

It was an extremely painful reminder of the relationship he’d once had with Fred and George. Harry tried to imagine what Fred would say to him. 

_”Honestly Harry, can’t believe you’re worried about these tossers. If I were you, I’d focus more on the fact that my arse is about to be flambéd. Actually, you should definitely focus on that, because me and George put 10 sickles on you.”_

Pushing his feelings aside, Harry sighed and pushed past a group of Ravenclaws, and ran straight into Professor Moody.

As Harry reeled back, Moody surveyed him coolly. 

“Potter, only a few days more. How you feeling?” he asked.

“I’m doing alright I suppose, all things considered,” Harry replied.

Moody’s eyes flicked Harry up and down.

“Come with me to my office Potter,” Moody said, before limping away.

Bewildered, Harry had no choice but to follow.

Entering Moody’s office, Harry couldn’t help but note the marked differences between his office, and the other Defence Against the Dark Arts Professors. Lockhart’s office was a clear indicator of his over inflated ego, with portraits of him lining every inch of the room. Lupin’s office felt warm, and safe. He’d had shelves of books, lining the walls, half drunk cups of tea left on the floor, and more often than not, had half eaten chocolate bars strewn on his desk. Moody’s office in comparison, felt cold, clinical.

He had nothing personal, no pictures, no little figurines to line his desk, just clear bookcases filled with strange objects. As Moody walked by, a sneakoscope lit up and started spinning frantically. Moody silenced it with a rough thwack of his cane.

“That ones been going haywire for months,” Moody growled.

Harry paused in his steps to stare at a cloudy mirror, with dark shapes silhouetted within it.

“Like my dark detectors, Potter?” Moody asked with a grin. “Never know when one will come in handy.”

Moody stopped in his steps as they reached his table, and turned around to regard Harry, leaning against his desk.

“So what’s the plan?”

“The... plan?” Harry asked confusedly.

Moody’s blue eye spun around in its socket irritably. 

“Your plan to defeat the dragon,” Moody huffed.

“Oh... yes... I haven’t really gotten that far...” Harry winced.

Both of Moody’s eyes widened comically as the corners of his mouth dipped down in displeasure.

“Potter, I’d have thought that you’d be taking this more seriously. Especially after seeing what you’re up against.”

“I am taking this seriously!” Harry snapped. “I just don’t want to think about it ok! This year has been absolutely rotten, and everyone seems to hate me for things that aren’t even my fault, so go ahead, berate me for not wanting any part of this!”

Harry felt the hot prickle of tears at the back of his eyes, and he dipped his head down, blinking furiously.

As Harry stared at the hardwood floor, which was being blurred by the moisture gathering in his eyes, Harry heard soft clunking steps approaching him.

Tensing up, expecting the worst, Harry was surprised to feel a hand patting him softly on the shoulder.

Looking up at Moody, Harry noticed how Moody’s face was remarkably softer. He almost seemed... sympathetic.

“I’m sorry, Potter,” Moody said. “I’ve been a bit too harsh on you. Truth is... I care for you. A lot more than I reckon I should.”

Harry was speechless, but thankfully Moody didn’t seem to want the silence to fester between them, and just carried on.

“I think that a few simple stunning spells combined with an Imperius curse at the end ought to do it. The stunning spells can also conceal the effect of the Imperious curse. Everyone will be none the wiser,” Moody said matter-of-factly.

Nodding jerkily, Harry tried his best to absorb the information that Moody had just dumped on him. _”I wish I could tell Hermione about this,”_ Harry thought wistfully. Of course, that would never work out. There was no way that Hermione would let Harry use an Unforgivable curse. She’d be haunting him about it for the rest of his days. No, better to keep this to himself.

“Well Potter,” Moody straightened up, “Good luck, and don’t forget, _constant vigilance!_ ” Moody extended his hand and Harry shook it, albeit a little shakily.

Now that Moody had forced Harry to come to terms with what Harry had to do, he was starting to consider running away as the best option. But Harry couldn’t do that, magically binding contracts and all. Once more, the absolute absurdity of this world left Har baffled. It was ridiculous how a 14 year old was expected to fight a _dragon_.But nonetheless, Harry was still expected to take down a gigantic, fire breathing, spiky tailed monster.

In between classes, Harry would practice the Imperius curse. It was a little late, but then again it was better than nothing. He’d glance at bugs, and rats out of the corner of his eye and whisper quietly, making them hop and dance. Once, Malfoy caught him intensely side eyeing a grasshopper, and sniggered to Goyle, “Potter’s really losing it isn’t he?”

Malfoy wasn’t exactly wrong. The days all seemed to blur into each other, and Harry thought about little other than the dragon he would have to fight.

Finally, the day came. Lessons stopped at midday to allow students to the dragon enclosure. Harry found himself being ushered away by McGonagall so insistently, that he didn’t even have time to say goodbye to Hermione. He merely sent her a panicked wave.

As McGonagall walked Harry down to a tent at the edge of the forest, she placed a hand on his shoulder, almost as if to steady herself,

Hoarsely, she said, “Now the most important thing is not to panic... just... do your best and nobody will think any worse of you. Are you all right?”

“Yes. Yes I’m fine.”

“... Good. Mr Bagman will be in soon, just... wait with the other champions. And good luck Potter.” And with that she strode off, leaving Harry to shiver in the cold November air.

Ducking under the tent flap, Harry came face-to-face with his competition.

Fleur Delacour was crouched in a corner. She looked pale and clammy. Viktor Krum’s face was as surly as usual, but the biggest giveaway was his right hand, which was twitching violently. Cedric was pacing, his eyebrows knitted. Spotting Harry, Cedric gave him a weak smile, before going back to pacing. Following in suit, Harry took up a position at the back of the tent where he paced back and forth, desperately trying to calm his jittery nerves.

Suddenly, a tiny voice spoke up behind him.

_”Psst. Psst!_

Inching closer to the edge of the tent, Harry whispered back, “Who’s there?”

“Is that you Harry? It’s me, Hermione!”

“Yeah it’s me,” Harry whispered. Though he tried not to show it, he was grateful to be able to speak to Hermione one more time.

“How are you feeling?” she asked concernedly.

“Alright... I suppose.” 

“Well, the key is to concentrate. After that all you have to do is-“

“-Battle a dragon.”

With a whimper, Hermione burst her way through the folds of the tent and enveloped Harry in a suffocating hug.

Harry sighed and rested his head against Hermione’s bushy hair. They rocked back and forth, and Harry could feel his shoulder getting damp as Hermione sniffled softly.

But of course, the moment was ruined by a bright flash, as Rita Skeeter in all of her monstrous glory, shouldered her way into the tent. 

“Young love,” she crooned, as Harry and Hermione jumped apart. She quickly gestured to her photographer to take another photo, and he did, blinding Harry and Hermione once more.

As Harry blinked the spots out of his eyes, Rita Skeeter started gesticulating wildly, “How... stirring,” she said with a grin, as the Quick-Quotes Quill perched on a floating piece of parchment behind her started scribbling wildly.

“You know, if things don’t turn out so... fortunate today, you two might even make the front page,” she said cheerily.

As Dumbledore and Ludo Bagman strode into the tent, Rita Skeeter and her photography scurried off to the side.

“Gather around champions!” Dumbledore boomed. “This is the moment you have all been waiting for, a moment only the four of you can- Miss Granger what are you doing here?”

“Er... sorry I’ll just be going...” Hermione ran out of the tent, and Dumbledore straightened his robes, smiling at Harry with a twinkle in his eye. “Now, I’ll leave it to Ludo to explain further.”

Smiling jovially, Bagman raised a purple velvet bag. 

“In here, are miniature models of the er... creatures you will be fighting. One by one you will reach into this bag, and whatever you pick out will correspond to the creature you will fight. Oh and you must also collect the golden egg! Now... ladies first.”

Fleur reached into the bag, and drew out a green dragon. Next was Krum, and he drew out a scarlet red dragon. Then, Cedric drew out a bluish grey dragon. Finally, it was Harry’s turn. There was really no point. He knew what he was going to get. Sure enough, when Harry removed his hand from the bag, clutched in his palm was a Hungarian Horntail. Spiky tail and all. Honestly, why was Harry still surprised about his terrible luck.

After a few more torturous minutes of waiting, it was time for Cedric to battle his dragon. Harry gave him a reassuring nod as he exited the tent. For a moment, it seemed as if Cedric wanted to say something to Harry, but thought better of it as he strode out to the enclosure, his face a shade or two greener than it typically was.

Once more, time seemed to blur, the shouts of the crowd and the announcer faded to white noise, until finally, Harry was the only one left in the tent.

Harry waited with bated breath, until he heard the blow of a shrill whistle. Shakily, he walked out to the enclosure, and came face-to-face with a gigantic spiky black tail that whipped towards him. Diving out of the way, Harry landed roughly on the rocky floor of the enclosure and wheezed. Barely a minute in, and Harry has already had a near death experience. Crawling back to his feet, Harry took the opportunity to hide behind a boulder and survey his surroundings. Lining the enclosure were stands, were all of the students and Teachers were sitting, watching him. 

Suddenly aware of all the eyes on him, Harry crept around to the other side of the boulder, to look at the dragon. It was just as terrifying as the first time Harry had seen it. It was perched high up on a massive boulder, it’s leg chained to a pillar. And there! Harry only saw it briefly, but behind the dragons hind legs, was the glint of a golden egg. 

Quickly formulating a plan, Harry raised his wand and yelled, _”Stupefy!”_

The red beam of light that shot from his wand, merely bounced off the creatures black hide. It reared up and with a roar, shot a pillar of fire at him. Harry dashed behind a boulder and cowered as the flames almost licked his skin. 

Rising up once more, Harry shot a series of stunning spells at the dragon, all of which did nothing but irritate it. But Harry could see, it was now or never. Under his breath, Harry whispered, _”Imperio.”_

Gazing into the dragon’s yellow eyes, Harry funneled all of his hate towards it, his frustration, his exhaustion. But as the dragon stomped closer to Harry, fear overtook him. 

Harry was frozen to the spot, gazing up at the yellow underbelly of the Hungarian Horntail as it raised its spiky tail, ready to smash done on Harry. Hot tears welled in Harry’s eyes. This wasn’t the way he would die.

Suddenly, Harry felt a tickling sensation against his chest, which then transitioned into an intense tugging. Almost on instinct, Harry raised his hand and was whooshed away, the dragon’s spiky tail grazing Harry’s arm. Harry was flying! 

Looking down, Harry was shocked to discover that he was was riding his Firebolt.

Regaining his bearings, Harry turned his broom 180 degrees, and swooped down back towards the enclosure. As the dragon shot balls of fire at Harry, he dodged them expertly. _”They’re just Bludgers,”_ Harry thought to himself. _”And the golden egg is just a snitch.”_

Bobbing and weaving, Harry ducked under the dragons feet, and led it away from the egg, before spinning around and diving. Harry reached out his hand. The egg was so close, he just needed to reach out a bit more... 

Cheered rocked the enclosure. Harry had gotten the egg. As the dragon wranglers wrestled the Hungarian Horntail back into its cage, Harry landed, and raised the egg triumphantly. His head was spinning. Absolutely nothing had gone to plan, and yet... Harry was still alive. It was absolutely mind boggling what had happened, and also completely unexplainable. How did his broom know to come to his rescue?

But Harry didn’t have time to reflect, as he was hurriedly pushed into a medical tent. Madam Pomfrey tutted, as she slapped a purple goo onto Harry’s cut, and mumbled to herself. 

Looking over at the bed next to his, Harry saw Cedric lying there, a thick orange paste covering half his face. Mending a burn, Harry supposed. 

Cedric grinned up at Harry, “That was a real good one mate. Well done!”

“Thanks! You did great too! Well... I didn’t see what you did, but I’m sure you did fantastic!”

Cedric chuckled, “I really didn’t, but all things considered, I’m just glad to be alive.”

“Me too...” Harry said softly.

Harry opened his mouth to say something to Cedric, but was interrupted by familiar clunking footsteps.

“Well done, Potter,” Moody said. “Not exactly the game plan, but brilliant nonetheless.”

Harry stared at Moody’s face, trying to detect any hints of disappointment. 

“I mean it sonny,” Moody said. “You did good. Now come on, I expect your friends will want to celebrate and tell you about your scores and everything I suppose.”

Gratefully, Harry rose up, and made to walk out of the tent.

As Cedric tried to follow in suit, Moody pushed him back down. 

“Not you Diggory, you’ve got a lot more mending to do.”

Smiling apologetically, Harry skipped out of the tent and made his way back to the castle.

He was stopped by Rita Skeeter who gave him a saccharine sweet smile, and asked, “Harry could I have a word about the competition?”

“Yes, you can, _goodbye,_ ” Harry said firmly as he trudged away, his egg clutched in his arms. 

As Harry skipped through the hallway, feeling as light as a feather, the sight of two heads of red hair stopped him in his tracks.

“Well done mate!” Fred grinned.

“You really showed that dragon!” George chimed in.

Harry could almost believe that things were back to normal between them, but as Harry gazed into Fred’s eyes, he could see they looked strained.

Harry suddenly felt all of his exhaustion catch up to him.

“Listen I’m going to be very straightforward here,” Harry snapped. “I’m not quite sure where things went wrong with us... with all of us, but I miss having you two as friends. So can we just - I don’t know - agree to be friends again? No weird tension, or whispers or anything like that. Just go back to the way things were.”

George looked very relieved, and nodded enthusiastically, but for a moment Harry thought he saw a flash of hurt in Fred’s face. But as fast as it appeared, it was gone and Fred was grinning again.

“Sounds good to me!” Fred chirped. 

“And now, as the official welcome patrol, we shall now lead you to the most extravagant celebration!” George said.

With no warning, Fred and George hosted Harry up, and placed him on their shoulders, one thigh on Fred’s shoulder, one thigh on George’s.

Feeling his body flush, Harry resisted the urge to curl up in a ball as Fred and George carried him into the common room, to thunderous applause.

“Congratulations Harry!” Seams shouted. “You’re tied for first place with Krum!”

“And you had the fastest timing!” Hermione chimed in, beaming.

As Fred and George carried him to the middle of the room, they joined in the hubbub.

“Knew you wouldn’t die Harry!” Fred shouted.

“Lose an arm-“

“-Or a leg.”

“Pack it in altogether.”

“Never!”

As Fred and George bounced Harry up and down, Harry giggled, feeling the happiest he’d felt all year.

“Everybody shush!” Seamus shouted. “Harry, you’ve got to open the egg to get the next clue.”

“Really? Who wants me to open it?!”

The common room shook as all of the Gryffindors shouted out a resounding _yes._

Twisting a latch at the top of the egg, the egg split open and shrill shriek filled the room.

Fred and George dropped Harry down as they went to clutch at their ears, but before Harry hit the ground, Fred caught him and placed him on the floor gently as Harry frantically shit the egg.

Rubbing at their ears, the Gryffindors winced as the high pitched screech still resonated within their ears.

“What the bloody hell was that?” Ron spat. 

Harry stared at Ron blankly. He was dressed in his pyjamas and looked as if he’d just come down from bed.

Clearing his throat, Fred said, “Alright everyone, go back to your knitting. This is going to be uncomfortable enough without you nosy sods listening in.”

The crowd of Gryffindor’s dispersed, though Harry noticed a few of them were still staring curiously at him and Ron.

“Harry,” Ron said seriously, “I reckon whoever put your name in the Goblet of Fire- they must be trying to do you in!”

“Finally caught on have you?” Harry said coldly.

“W-well I wasn’t the only one who was thinking it,” Ron stuttered. “Loads of people were saying it behind your back as well.”

“That makes me feel so much better.”

Hermione sidled up to both of them and stared nervously at them.

Ron shifted on his feet, before opening his mouth. He was going to apologise, Harry knew he was going to. And Harry didn’t want to hear it.

“It’s alright mate,” Harry said, cutting Ron off.

“But-“

_”Forget it.”_

Ron grinned at Harry, and Harry grinned back.

Hermione burst into tears.

“You’re both so stupid,” she sobbed, pulling the both of them into a tight hug.

As Harry stood there in the middle of the common room, sandwiched between a weeping Hermione and an uncomfortable Ron with people nosily side eyeing them, he couldn’t help but feel like things were finally getting back to normal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas. Sorry for the many typos. Will go back and edit... eventually...


	21. Dates, Dates, Dates

A couple of hours into the party, Harry, Ron, and Hermione made their way down to the Owlery to give word to Sirius of the events of the day.

On their way down, Harry filled Ron in on everything that had transpired. (Harry even whispered to Ron the details of his new private lessons with Moody, to which Ron enthusiastically said, “That’s bloody fantastic!” The pair quickly straightened up however, when Hermione turned to face them suspiciously.)

As Ron tied Harry’s letter to an energetic Pigwidgeon’s leg, he said, “You know what Harry, I reckon you’ve got an actual chance at winning this thing. After all, the next tasks can’t be as difficult as this one was.”

Harry knew Ron was desperately trying to make up for the past few weeks, but he decided to just let it slide. Hermione on the other hand, didn’t seem as eager to appeal to Harry’s ego.

“Harry’s still got a lot of work to do. He might’ve gotten first for the task, but let’s be real he barely scraped by.”

“Thanks, Hermione,” Harry scowled.

“You know despite your grievances with her,” Ron said, tossing Pigwidgeon out the window, “I think you and Professor Trelawney could be best mates.”

The watched as Pigwidgeon wobbled into the darkness, and Ron said, “We should be getting back. I think Fred and George should be back with the food by now.”

Sure enough, as they returned to the Gryffindor common room, the armchairs and sofas had been shifted to the side to make way for a table, laden with trays of chocolate biscuits, bowls of scotch eggs, plates of jammie dodgers and so much more. 

Someone also had the initiative of distributing some Dr Filibuster's Fabulous Wet-Start, No-Heat Fireworks, so the air was filled with trails of smoke, and sparks that illuminated the room with colourful bursts of light. 

As Harry helped himself to some Jaffa cakes, he couldn’t help the swell of joy, warming him from head to toe. Ron was his friend again, he was tied for first place in the Tournament, and he wouldn’t have to face another task for three months. Life was good.

As Harry settled down onto one of the couches that was pushed against the wall, Fred sat down beside him.

“Blimey!” Fred exclaimed, grinning at Harry, “I cant remember the last time we had a party like this!”

“I can,” Harry mumbled, his mouth full. He quickly tried to swallow the food in his mouth, but choked as a few Jaffa cake crumbs slid down the wrong pipe. Harry pounded his chest desperately, cleared his throat, and straightened up, smiling at Fred demurely.

“You were saying?” Fred asked amusedly.

“Right... er... I remember the last party we had. It was the night I got chosen as Champion. Remember?”

“I do,” Fred said softly, his eyes darting downwards towards his hands, which Harry suddenly noticed, with a stab, were fidgeting. “Though I reckon you don’t,” Fred chuckled, raising his eyes to meet Harry’s, that previous vulnerability now gone, hidden behind a mask of cheekiness.

“I suppose I did drink a lot,” Harry said. _”Sod it all,”_ Harry thought angrily to himself. _”What the bloody hell does Fred want. He’s already rejected me, fair enough. No need to rub salt into the wound by making me all.... confused!”_

Thankfully, Harry was distracted from his bitterness at the utter stupidity of human emotions, by Lee Jordan who hefted up the golden egg which was perched on a coffee table on display.

“What’d you reckon the clue is, Harry?” Lee mused, turning it around in his hand.

“Sounded a lot like a banshee,” Seamus chimed in, looking up from the banner he was painting with Dean.

“Sounded like screams to me,” Neville said shakily, “It might be the Cruciatus curse.”

“Don’t be thick Neville,” George chided, “The Cruciatus curse is illegal, they wouldn’t be allowed to use it on champions.”

Despite how improbable Neville’s proposal was, it led to Harry pondering how effective it would be to use a Cruciatus curse against a Cruciatus curse. Would they cancel each other out? Or would the pain be doubled?

“Here Hermione, have a jam tart,” Fred said, holding one out towards her.

As Hermione regarded it suspiciously, Fred said, “Don’t worry Hermione, we haven’t done anything to this. It’s the custard creams you need to look out for.”

Neville, who had just accepted a custard cream from George and had taken a huge bite of it, turned green and began violently slamming his chest with his fist in an attempt to bring the custard cream back up.

“Just joking, Neville,” Fred chortled.

Hermione accepted the jam tart.

“So... did you two get this all from the kitchens?” she asked innocently as she nibbled on the tart.

“Yeah, we-“ Fred’s eyes narrowed. “Why’d you want to know?”

“No reason, just... how exactly do you get into the kitchens?”

“Bloody hell,” George groaned. “You aren’t going to start passing out flyers to the house elves or anything, are you?”

Hermione opened her mouth, but before she could protest, a disruption came in the form of Neville, who had promptly transformed into a large canary.

“Oh- sorry, Neville!” Fred cackled, “I forgot- it _was_ the custard creams we hexed.”

Neville, thankfully, reappeared in less than a minute, moulting all of his feathers.

The Gryffindors cheered and clapped.

“Thank you, ladies and gentlemen,” Fred shouted, him and George bowing with a flourish of their hands. “Canary creams! Seven sickles each!”

Harry finally retreated to bed at one, placing the tiny Hungarian Horntail model by his bedside, where it yawned and curled up to sleep. As Harry drifted off, he decided Hagrid was right. Dragons weren’t all that bad after all.

The start of December brought wind, sleet, and chill to Hogwarts along with it. Despite how draughty Hogwarts was, Harry couldn’t be more grateful for its cozy fireplaces and thick walls whenever he saw the Durmstrang ship bouncing up and down on the choppy waves of the black lake, it’s black sails billowing against a black sky. Beauxbatons didn’t seem to be any better, while the carriage looked very pretty, Harry reckoned gold wasn’t a fantastic insulator of heat. 

It was the evening after class, when Harry and Ron seemed to lose track of Hermione. She wasn’t at dinner, and she wasn’t at the library either. However, Krum was. Ron snuck behind a bookcase, and debated on whether or not to ask him for his autograph. But when realised there were seven girls in the library debating the exact same thing, he seemed to lose his eagerness and left the library grumpily, Harry hot on his heels. Honestly, it was a surprise Krum would even bother to know where the Hogwarts library is. For some reason Krum didn’t strike Harry as academically inclined...

Harry and Ron decided to give up, and returned to the common room.

“Where on earth has she gone off to?” Ron asked, as he reclined on an armchair in front of the fireplace. Not long after he said that, did the portrait swing open, making way for a deliriously excited Hermione.

“Hermione what’s going on?” Harry questioned, concerned at her state.

“Come on,” Hermione gestured, “I figured out a way to get into the kitchens!”

“Wha- Seriously Hermione?” Ron groaned.

“Just follow me!”

“No! Just tell us what’s going on.”

“Oh alright!” Hermione snapped crossly. “Give me a moment then.”

She dashed out of the common room, and Ron and Harry exchanged bewildered looks. Barely a minute passed before Hermione sprinted back in, her chest heaving and her face red with exertion.

“ _This_ is what I wanted to show you,” she said exasperatedly.

A small creature darted through the portrait hole, and lunged itself at Harry, squealing loudly, “Harry Potter, sir! _Harry Potter!_ ”

Harry felt the wind get knocked out of him as the creature hugged his midriff tightly. Looking down, Harry recognised that bat-like ears immediately.

“Dobby?!”

“It _is_ , Dobby, sir!” Dobby squealed, releasing himself from Harry. 

“But- what’re you doing here?” Harry asked amazedly.

“Dobby has come to work at Hogwarts, sir!” Dobby squealed. “Professor Dumbledore has given Dobby and Winky jobs, sir!”

“Wow, that’s fantastic!” Harry said.

“Yes, Dumbledore is even paying Dobby, sir! One Galleon a week and a day off a month,” Dobby said proudly.

“That’s not very much,” Hermione said indignantly.

“Shush Hermione,” Ron said irritatedly.

“Professor Dumbledore offered Dobby 10 Galleons a week and weekends off,” Dobby shuddered. “But Dobby isn’t wanting so much freedom miss...”

“Well, how is Winky?” Harry asked.

This sobered Dobby up. 

“Not so good, sir. Winky is crying a lot, sir,” Dobby said, shaking his head.

“Well, just tell her that Barty Crouch is a right old codger,” Ron said.

“Dobby did, sir,” Dobby said, his face lighting up, before falling again. “Winky did not like it that much, sir. Winky cried even more.”

“Well, do you see how terribly treated they are,” Hermione said impatiently.

“Yeah Hermione, terrible,” Ron said boredly.

Harry didn’t respond to Hermione, and waved goodbye to Dobby.

“It really is good to see you again Dobby.”

“Dobby is glad to see you too, sir! And- Dobby is wondering... if Dobby can see sir again?”

“Of course, Dobby!” Harry beamed.

Dobby let out a squeak of delight and wrapped his stick like arms around Harry again, before dashing out of the portrait hole.

“Funny, isn’t he,” Ron said.

“You really have no idea,” Harry sighed.

“Honestly, you two!” Hermione said shrilly.

“What,” Ron said blankly.

With a huff, Hermione turned on her heel and stormed up the stairs to the girls dormitories.

With a shrug at each other, Harry and Ron followed in Hermione’s suit and went up the stairs to their dorms.

The next few days, it was starting to feel like things were going back to normal. The stress of the Triwizard Tournament had dulled to nothing more than a faint throb at the back of Harry’s skull, and now with both Hermione and Ron by his side, and his relationship with Fred and George repaired (mostly), the empty ache of loneliness in his chest had subsided completely.

Classes had also resumed, and whilst in the face of a dragon Harry would’ve much rather preferred to be in Transfiguration, Harry now would’ve chosen to face a dragon instead of trying to Transfigure birds into guinea pigs. In the pursuit of something a little more thrilling, Harry had approached Moody with the intentions of coaxing a second private lesson from him. But Moody merely shook his head and said, “Not yet, Potter.”

Harry was nodding off as he sluggishly packed his things, when Professor McGonagall suddenly spoke up, “Oh and before I forget, Gryffindors gather at the classroom at the end of the East hall on the fourth floor. We will be meeting after classes today.”

A murmur of excitement rose up as the students scurried out of the Transfiguration.

“What’d you reckon it’s about?” Ron asked.

“Probably something to do with the Tournament,” Hermione said.

“Yes, but what specifically?” Harry asked nervously.

“Suppose we’ll find out after class,” Hermione said, striding ahead.

Harry’s last two periods passed quickly, and he found himself inside a long classroom with benches lining its two sides. Just as Harry took a seat next to Hermione, McGonagall strode in and said sharply, “Boys on this side, girls on the other.”

Harry reluctantly left Hermione, who had a look of slight panic in her eyes.

Ron had sat in front of Fred and George, and Harry joined him, shooting a smile at Fred and George, who grinned back at him.

Looking around, Harry couldn’t help but notice that there didn’t seem to be anyone younger than a fourth year in the classroom. Preoccupied with puzzling it over in his head, Harry was startled as Filch dropped a large gramophone onto a rickety wooden table at the corner of the classroom. A pit of dread formed in Harry’s gut as he began to piece together what was happening.

As Filch fiddled with the gramophone, causing it to let out a few strangled yowls, McGonagall strode to the centre of the classroom and regarding the students sternly, said, “With the return of the Triwizard Tournament, comes the Yule Ball-“

An excited buzz filled the room, as students whispered to each other delightedly. Harry who didn’t quite get the excitement, stayed silent.

With a cold glare, McGonagall silenced the room once more, and carried on, “-The Yule Ball has been a tradition of the Triwizard Tournament since its inception. On the night of Christmas, we and our guests will be gathering in the Great Hall for a night of well-mannered frivolity,” McGonagall said with pursed lips. “While this is a chance for us to - er - let our hair down, this does not mean the standards of behaviour will be relaxed in any way.”

Seeing McGonagall with her tight bun, it was hard for Harry to believe she’d ever let her hair down. Figuratively and literally.

“Thus, I will be expecting you all to put your best foot forward,” McGonagall said with a steely gaze, “When I say that, I mean it in both the literal and figurative sense, as first and foremost the Yule Ball... is a dance.”

There was a sudden commotion as the students all turned to each other to discuss this shocking new revelation. There were definitely more squeals of excitement emanating from the girl’s side as compared to the boy’s. 

Once again, McGonagall quietened the room with a glare. 

“The house of Godric Gryffindor has commanded the respect of the Wizard World for nearly ten centuries. I _will not_ have you besmirch that name over the course of a single evening by behaving like a babbling, bumbling, band of baboons!”

“Say that ten times faster,” Fred whispered to George.

“Babbling-bumbling-band-of-baboons,” George muttered to himself.

“Babbling-bumbling-band-of-baboons,” Fred continued.

Harry resisted the urge to burst out laughing as McGonagall gestured to Filch.

Sweeping her arms grandly, McGonagall began to wax poetic about how a graceful swan and a lordly lion lived inside every boy and girl.

“Somethings about to burst out of Eloise Midgen and I don’t think it’s a swan,” Ron snickered to Seamus.

McGonagall’s eyes flicked to Ron.

“Mr Weasley, perhaps you’d like to come up here and demonstrate with me.”

Ron turned bright red and hunched down in his seat. Harry playfully shoved him off his chair and Ron shot a glare at Harry, before shuffling up to McGonagall and facing her.

“Now, place your right hand on my waist,” McGonagall instructed.

“Where?” Ron asked, turning as pale as a sheet.

“My waist.”

A wolf whistle echoed throughout the room, and Ron furiously spun around, trying to find the source, before McGonagall grabbed his hand and placed it on her waist.

“Now, Mr Filch!”

A slow, dreary song blared out from the gramophone, and awkwardly McGonagall guided Ron around the floor and they twirled slowly.

“Oy! Never gonna let him forget this are you?” Harry grinned, leaning over to the twins who were slow dancing with the air.

“Never,” they gleefully said in unison.

“Now, all on your feet,” McGonagall ordered.

The girls all rose to their feet immediately, but the boys were far more reluctant. In a shocking display of bravery, Neville rose to his feet first, approaching Lavender Brown and extending his hand nervously.

She hesitated, before grabbing his hand.

The rest of the boys slowly followed, each of them pairing up with a girl. Harry shot a look at Fred, who had grasped Angelina’s hand and was twirling her around with a laugh.

Harry strode up quickly to Hermione and took her hand, dragging her to the corner of the room where they wobbled back and forth together, safe from McGonagall’s sharp critiques in the shadow of the room. 

“Christ, Hermione,” Harry whispered, “Do you know what this means?”

“That we’re going to have to dance,” Hermione shuddered.

“Well- yes that too, but we’re going to have to find dates!”

“Oh.”

“I don’t know what I’m going to do,” Harry said.

“Well, it shouldn’t be hard,” Hermione said. “Half the girls in school are now swooning over you.”

“No they aren’t,” Harry said, fixing Hermione with a puzzled glance.

“Well, that’s just because you’re completely oblivious, Harry,” Hermione said, matter-of-factly.

“I’m not,” Harry protested.

“Well either way, this is the perfect opportunity to ask out the person you’ve been dying to.”

“R-really?” Harry sputtered, shooting a glance at Fred who seemed to be doing a much less coordinated version of the Carlton.

“Yes,” Hermione said, rolling her eyes, “We’ve all seen you ogling Cho.”

“Oh- yeah.”

To be completely honest, it had been a while since Cho had crossed his mind. Harry wondered if he still liked her. Well, Harry did think she was very pretty, her face was very symmetrical and her hair was nice and shiny. 

“I suppose you’re right, Hermione,” Harry said. “I suppose it’s time I pluck up the courage and be honest about my feelings.”

Hermione’s mouth made an o of surprise. Harry supposed that this was the first time he’d so readily accepted her advice.

“Alright, I suppose that’s enough,” McGonagall announced. “Oh and I forgot to mention, only fourth years and up are allowed to attend the Yule Ball. Younger students can attend the ball only if they are accompanied by an older student. Now, get some rest.”

As the students streamed out of the classroom chattering to each other, Harry pondered the best way to ask Cho. Because of course he’d have to ask Cho. After all, she was very pretty.

Never before had so many people put their names down to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas. As Harry passed by people in the hallway, the only thing that he could hear them talking about was the Ball.

While Harry had his mind set on Cho, that didn’t stop him from accompanying Ron on his quest to find a date.

“Why’ve they got to travel in packs,” Ron moaned as they crossed the courtyard.

“I dunno,” Harry shrugged, starting to feel quite impatient. It was the third day in a row that Ron had chickened out over asking someone out.

Suddenly, a tall fifth year approached them. She fixed Harry with a cold gaze as she asked him to the ball. Shakily, Harry muttered some excuse about already having a date.

“What’re you doing, mate,” Ron said, mouth agape. “She was proper fit!”

“And a head taller than me,” Harry said glumly. “She also looked like she was going to punch my lights out. Besides, I’m going to ask Cho remember?”

“Ah, so why haven’t you asked her out yet?” Ron asked skeptically.

“I just can’t find her.”

“Whatever you say mate.”

Embarrassment about the ball aside, life had improved drastically. Walking through the hall, he seemed to attract little to no unpleasantness anymore. He suspected that Cedric must have told his friends about Harry’s tip. Malfoy of course, still quoted Rita Skeeter’s article at him whenever possible, trying to get a rise out of him. But Harry found that he cared less and less about Malfoy. After an illuminating conversation with Dobby, Harry had come to the confirmation that Malfoy’s family had indeed been dark wizards. It was something Harry looked forward to holding over Malfoy in the future.

Rumours were spreading all over the castle about the Yule Ball. Harry once heard two sixth years excitedly discussing the prospect of Dumbledore buying eight hundred barrels of mulled mead from Madam Rosmerta. However, what had been confirmed was that Dumbledore had booked the Weird Sisters. Exactly _what_ the Weird Sisters were, Harry wasn’t quite sure.

Snape of course, being the nasty little git he was had decided to schedule a test on the last lesson of term, which was how Ron, Harry, and Hermione had come to be stuck in the Great Hall for a mandatory remedial session.

Looking around, Harry saw the stormy faces of the other students lining the bench. 

“Harry if you aren’t going to study, you might as well do something productive,” Hermione snapped quietly, ducking her head under so that Snape didn’t see her talking to Harry.

“Do what?” Harry drawled, re-reading the same line he’d been stuck on, for the hundredth time.

“The egg, Harry,” Hermione hissed.

“Oh that? That’s ages away,” Harry dismissed.

Harry could see Hermione wanted to press the issue, but his saviour Fred and George came swooping in, dropping their book bags noisily on the table. Snape looked up from his book to shoot them a nasty glare, but they simply ignored him.

Shooting a glance at Harry, then looking up to Snape, Fred hastily scribbled something on a piece of parchment and tossed it towards Harry.

 _”Get a move on or all the good ones would have gone,”_ Harry whispered under his breath.

He tossed the note back to Fred and whispered, “Where’re you going with this?”

Fred crumpled the note up, and with a quick glance at Snape, threw the ball at Angelina who was sitting a few seats down.

As Angelina looked up to give Fred a withering look, Fred mouthed, “Do you want to go to the ball with me?” He extended his hands rocked about, looking like he was dancing with someone invisible.

Angelina paused for a second, before nodding curtly and turning back to her friend with a grin on her face.

Fred turned back to Harry and winked salaciously. 

Harry felt his cheeks redden. Whether it was out of jealously of Angelina, or because of that bloody wink, Harry didn’t know.

 _”Well that settles it,”_ Harry thought to himself, _”There’s no other way about it, I’ll have to ask Cho.”_

Ron, who also looked quite red after seeing Fred and Angelina’s exchange, turned to Hermione.

“Well Hermione, you’re a girl.”

“Yes, well spotted,” she said scathingly, as she violently crossed something off her notes.

Harry noticed Snape striding towards them, a malicious glint in his eyes, and Harry rugged on Ron’s arm, frantically trying to get him to notice.

“Can’t you come with-“

The trio let out a yelp as Snape smack them roughly across the back of the head.

Glaring at Snape, Ron turned back to Hermione.

“Come on Hermione, it’s one thing for a bloke to show up alone. For a girl... it’s just sad.”

Hermione’s eyes darkened.

“I won’t be going alone, because believe it or not, someone’s asked me!” she hissed, before standing up and storming out of the Great Hall, passing her notes to Professor Snape on the way out.

“She’s not going with anyone, right?” Ron said confusedly. “She just lied about that to get rid of us.”

“If you say so,” Harry said tiredly.

“Look mate we’ve just got to grit our teeth and do it. Tomorrow night when we get back to the common room, we’ll both have partners, agreed?”

“Agree-“

The two boys winced as Snape roughly shoved their heads down to look at their notes.

After he released them and walked away, Harry shot a glare at Snape’s back before turning around to release Fred was staring at him.

“So, who you planning on asking out,” Fred whispered.

“Cho Chang probably,” Harry replied.

Fred grinned, and said, “I saw it coming a mile away. Good on you mate.”

Again, Harry was confused about why everyone was so convinced he was madly in love with Cho, but whatever, if there ever was a perfect person to be madly in love with, it was Cho.

But no matter where Harry seemed to look, it was as if Cho disappeared off the face of the Earth.

Giving up, Harry trudged up to the Owlery, intending to send Sirius a letter about his woe. He was walking up the steps two at a time, when he was face to face with someone else, who gasped loudly as their heads almost bashed together.

“Cho!” Harry exclaimed.

Cho chuckled nervously as she tried to pass by Harry, only for Harry to move in the same direction she was.

“Er sorry,” Harry said, face flushing pink.

He stepped to the right, only for Cho to step in the exact same direction he did.

“Let me just...”

Cho gently gripped Harry’s shoulders and rotated them around so that Harry was now in the doorway of the Owlery.

“Watch your step on the stairs, it’s a bit icy at the top,” she smiled, before turning to make her way down.

Realising it was now or never, Harry called after Cho, wincing as his voice echoed off the wall of the Owlery.

“Yes?” Cho asked.

“Cho... I was just wondering... ifyouwangoballwime!”

Cho scrunched up her face in confusion, “Sorry? I didn’t catch that.”

Taking in a deep breath to soothe his racing heart, Harry said, “Cho, I was wondering... if you wanted to go to the Ball with me.”

Immediately a look of pity washed over Cho’s face, and Harry felt his stomach drop.

“I’m so sorry Harry... someone’s already asked me... and I said I’ll go with them.”

“Ah, ok. That’s alright.”

“Are you sure-“

“Yeah, yeah no worries.”

“...Bye Harry.”

“Bye Cho.”

As Harry watched Cho descend the steps, it felt as if his insides had disappeared, and left him feeling empty.

Harry stayed in the Owlery for an hour, trying to purge the embarrassment from his body, but to no avail. Eventually he got up and stretched the ache from his body, and gloomily walked back to the common room.

To his surprise, Ron was crouched in a corner, his face ashy, as Ginny and Hermione perched over him, whispering soothing words to him.

“What happened?” Harry asked concernedly 

“He just asked Fleur Delacour out,” Ginny said sympathetically, as she rubbed Ron’s arm.

“It just sort of... came out,” Ron whimpered.

“Don’t worry about it Ron,” Harry said, “I’ve just been rejected by Cho Chang.”

“This is madness,” Ron groaned. “We are about the two last people in Hogwarts without dates. Even Neville’s asked someone out.”

Harry looked at Ginny in surprise.

Ginny nodded and said, “Neville’s asked both me and Luna Lovegood out. Since we’re both third years we figured we’d take the opportunity, and just go with Neville as friends.”

Harry had no clue who Luna Lovegood was, but he reckoned it was just one of Ginny’s classmates.

Suddenly, a knocking on the portrait drew his attention. Harry opened the portrait to reveal Cho, who seemed to be trembling in excitement.

“We can go together, Harry!”

Dumbstruck, Harry just stood there, blinking at her.

Sensing his confusion, Cho explained, “Me and Cedric were going together - but just as friends. I told him about you asking me out and he said that he was fine going with someone else, or just going alone!”

“Ah, I see. Wait you and Cedric aren’t dating?!”

Cho shook her head, a twinkle in her eye.

“So... is that a yes, Harry?”

“Bloody hell, of course!” Harry grinned.

“Well I’ll see you at the ball then,” Cho beamed, “Goodnight Harry!”

“Goodnight Cho,” Harry said breathlessly.

Harry skipped through the portrait hole to Ron and exclaimed, “Cho’s just asked me out!”

Ron’s face fell, “Well looks like I’ll be the only loner at the Yule Ball. No point in me going, honestly.”

“No don’t say that!” 

Harry looked around for any girls that were present, and just then Lavender and Parvati strolled through the portrait hole.

“Go on, ask Parvati,” Harry urged. “I’m sure she doesn’t have a date yet.”

Mustering up his courage, Ron rose and walked towards Lavender and Parvati. After a short conversation, and a lot of giggling on the two girls end, Ron walked back, his ashy complexion having dissipated.

“Well that’s done with.”

Harry patted Ron on the back with a grin, and couldn’t help but feel that his life was now on the perfect course, to make up with all the unfairness he’d had to deal with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, sorry that took so long to come out. The end of my school year is coming about so that means I’ve gotta lot of projects. I do hope this extra chunky chapter makes up for it though. And I do hope that you stick around for the next chapter. I’m looking forward to writing that one :D Also, we’re more than halfway through the book so 0.0 This is simultaneously going faster, and slower than I thought it would.


	22. A Night of Surprises

In spite of the mountain of homework dumped onto the fourth years for the holidays, Harry couldn’t find it in him to be bothered at all by it. Following Cho’s acceptance of him asking her to go with him to the Yule Ball, Harry couldn’t find it in him to be unhappy about anything. It seemed like all the other Gryffindors were in the same jolly mood that Harry was in, with the common room constantly abuzz with conversations and rowdy roughhousing. 

There was also a high deal of suspicion surrounding everyone. Fred and George had gained a lot of success with their Canary Creams, and had apparently sold enough to allow Fred and George to buy their mother a high end sewing machine. Harry wasn’t quite sure how Mrs Weasley would appreciate it, given her predilection for magic, as compared to Muggle technology. But, Harry had no doubt that Mr Weasley would have had a lot of fun prodding at it.

As a result of all the Canary Creams in people’s possession, nobody was willing to accept food from anyone anymore, lest a Canary Cream be hidden in it’s middle. Deeply pleased with the new atmosphere blanketing the Gryffindor common room, Fred had pulled Harry aside to whisper to him that he and George were developing something even better. Harry instantly felt nervous upon seeing that all too familiar mischievous glint in Fred’s eye, and swore to never accept food from him or George again, never mind the fact that they’d never tested a product on him before.

Ron and Hermione had also seemed to patch things up, save for the fact that every now and then, Ron would spring a question about her date onto her, in an attempt to catch her off guard.

“For the last time, Ron,” Hermione sighed, “I’m not telling you. You’re just going to make fun of me.”

“You’re joking, Weasley,” Malfoy sneered, his voice approaching them from behind them, “Someone asked to the ball?”

“What’s wrong, Malfoy?” Harry said hotly, “Jealous that nobody except that pig faced Parkinson wanted to go with you?”

Malfoy gritted his teeth and was about to snarl something out, when Hermione’s eyes widened comically in a look of mock surprise.

“Professor Moody!” she exclaimed, pointing off towards the distance.

Malfoy turned pale and spun around frantically, only to find no one in sight.

“Twitchy little ferret aren’t you, Malfoy?” Hermione chuckled.

The trio walked by Malfoy, who still looked like he was about to collapse.

As soon as Malfoy was out of sight, Harry let out a loud cackle.

“Serves that git right! Can’t believe I didn’t think to do that!”

“Well, it seems Professor Moody has gifted us with a precious reprieve from the little ferret,” Hermione said pleasedly.

Suddenly a grey tennis ball darted past their faces, and settled on a bannister. As Harry squinted, Harry realised that the grey tennis ball was none other than Pigwidgeon, who had a piece of parchment tied to his leg.

Pigwidgeon twittered madly and hopped around as a group of third year girls cooed over him.

Seething, Ron grabbed Pigwidgeon, and holding him up to his face, hissed, “You bring letters straight to the addressee! You don’t hang around and show off!”

The other students shot them shocked looks and quickly scurried off.

Reaching the common room, Harry, Ron, and Hermione huddled together in a corner, ignored by the rest of the students who were in too much of a holiday mood to pay them any mind.

Harry read out:

 _Dear Harry,_  
_Congratulations on getting past the Horntail, whoever put your name in that Goblet shouldn’t be feeling too happy right now! I was going to suggest a Conjunctivitis curse, as a dragon’s eyes are it’s weakest points. But I must admit your way was better, I’m impressed._

Harry’s breath caught as he read the next part of the letter, and his eyes skimmed over the words, not reading them aloud.

_I am disappointed that you would have ever considered using an unforgivably curse, Harry. I’m glad you didn’t sink down to that level though. Don’t forget, an unforgivable curse is what killed your parents._  
_Stop your lessons with Moody, and don’t get complacent. You still have two more tasks to go. Keep your eyes open, and keep yourself out of trouble._  
_Keep in touch, I still want to hear about anything unusual,_  
_Sirius_

“Well,” Hermione said, “What does the rest of the letter say?”

“Just the usual,” Harry said, hastily stuffing the letter into his pocket. “Constant vigilance and all that. I swear he’s starting to sound like Moody,” Harry chuckled nervously.

Hermione eyed Harry suspiciously but decided to let the subject drop.

“Well, I’m sure Sirius mentioned something about starting on your clue-“

“Oh leave off, Hermione,” Ron huffed. “Harry’s still got ages.”

“I suppose so,” Hermione sighed, settling down to watch as Ron and Harry started a game chess.

Christmas had arrived, and along with it came a glorious pile of presents.

Harry had awoken very abruptly that morning, and came face to face with an excited Dobby, who had presented him with some socks. 

After that, Harry opened up his other presents which were much more satisfactory, save for the Dursleys’ who had given him nothing but a piece of tissue paper.

To his surprise, Fred and George had left a present for him. Harry gingerly opened up the red wrapping paper, to reveal a red and gold tie. At the end of the tie, a Hungarian Horntail snaked around the fabric. As Harry stared longer, the dragon’s eyes blinked and a trail of smoke puffed out of its nostrils. The tendrils of smoke curled around to form words that read, _”The Triwizard Champion”_. It was by far the most touching gift Harry had received, and if he had been in a more emotionally vulnerable state, Harry was sure he would’ve teared up.

As Harry carefully put the tie away, his eye was caught by a nondescript brown paper package. His eyebrows furrowing, Harry picked it up. He wasn’t sure who could have sent it, as he was very sure all of his friends and family were accounted for. There was a small letter attached to the back, and Harry read it.

_Hi Harry! I know that technically this gift isn’t for you but, consider it a favour from me. It’s not much, but I know that Cho will love it._   
_Thank you for being such an amazing friend. I am so glad to have gotten the chance to know you better._   
_Cedric_

Heart fluttering, Harry ripped open the package to reveal a deep purple aster flower corsage. It was beautiful, and if Harry didn’t know that he was obligated to give it to Cho, he’d certainly want to keep it for himself. Carefully keeping all his presents, he joined Ron in making their way down to the Great Hall, but not before sneaking a look at Neville, who was fervently practicing his dance moves in front of a mirror.

Ron sniggered at Neville, but Harry kept quiet. He thought it was sweet that Neville was putting this much effort in. He hoped that Ginny and Luna Lovegood appreciated it.

Ron and Harry met up with Hermione in the Great Hall and ate breakfast as they waited for their delivery. Mrs Weasley had wrote to them and told them she’d be sending them dress robes.

Finally, an owl flew into the hall with two brown packages strapped to its back, dipping up and down unsteadily, before finally landing in front of Harry and Ron. (Of course, not before tipping Ron’s orange juice over.)

Harry opened up the package labelled with his name, and smiled gleefully at the simple black robes that would compliment the tie given to him by Fred and George.

As Ron opened his up, his jaw went slack at the diabolically frilly dusty pink robes.

“No, no,” Ron muttered, shaking his head. He strode over to where Ginny was sitting, and extended the robes towards her, almost as if he couldn’t bear to look at them. “Ginny, these must be for you.”

Ginny scrunched up her face, saying, “I’m not wearing that. It’s ghastly!”

Hermione hid her face behind her hand and let out a snigger.

Ron turned to her accusatorially, and asked, “What?”

Hermione rolled her eyes and said, “Those aren’t for Ginny. They’re your dress robes!”

Ron’s mouth dropped open in a look of pure horror.

Hardly being able to resist the temptation, Harry rummaged around in the box, “I wonder if there’s a bonnet... Aha!”

“It’s not funny,” Ron scowled, snatching the frills out of Harry’s hand. “I’m going to be the laughing stock of Hogwarts.”

Feeling slightly guilty, Harry patted his shoulder sympathetically and said, “Don’t worry Ron. At least you’ll outshine all the girls!”

Harry, Ron and, Hermione spent the rest of the day having snowball fights, or rather, Harry and Ron had snowball fights. Hermione just watched.

Soon, the Weasley twins, Neville, Dean, and Seamus joined in. In between a violent bout of snowball hurling, Harry pulled Fred aside and thanked him for the tie.

Fred beamed and said, “You’re going to absolutely knock the socks off your date. Speaking of which, did Cho say yes?”

“Yeah, she did!”

“I’m happy for you Harry,” Fred said, averting his gaze. “You deserve it.”

Once more caught off guard by Fred’s behaviour, Harry was about to ask Fred to come out with whatever it is he was thinking, when a large snowball smacked him straight in the face and toppled him to the ground.

“Oy! You two are missing out!” Ron hollered, before being slammed in the chest by a barrage of snow.

The boys continued to play and at 5 o’clock, Hermione excused herself, saying she needed to get ready.

“What, it’ll take you three hours to get ready?” Ron asked incredulously.

Hermione ignored him as she walked away.

“Who’re you going out with?!” Ron shouted at Hermione, only to receive no response.

After some time, the boys all decided they’d better get ready for the ball as the sun was starting to set.

Harry nervously put on his dress robes and fastened the tie that Fred and George gave him. Tucking his broomstick necklace under his shirt, he picked up the corsage and placed it into his robe pocket, being careful not to crush it. As he emerged from the bathroom, he almost crashed into a very distressed Ron. 

Ron was standing in front of a mirror, and staring at his robes with a look of pure dismay.

“I look like my Great Aunt Tessie,” he moaned. Lifting up his arms to sniff at his armpits, Ron screwed his face up. “I _smell_ like my Great Aunt Tessie.”

Harry clapped Ron’s shoulder before gently ushering him out the door. At the foot of the stairs to the common room, Parvati was waiting for Ron. Her face fell as she surveyed Ron’s robes.

“You look... dashing,” she said, not attempting to mask her unhappiness. 

_”She’s one to talk,”_ Harry thought to himself. Harry thought that Parvati’s orange and pink dress clashed terribly with her skin tone. 

“Where’s Hermione?” Ron asked. Parvati shrugged and the three of them walked down to the Great Hall where Cho was waiting. Harry felt his mouth go dry.

Cho was dressed elegantly in a body hugging silver dress, and her hair was done up in a messy bun, with loose locks of hair that framed her face.

“Hi Harry!” she smiled. 

“Hi C-Cho,” Harry stuttered as his tongue stuck itself to the roof of his mouth. Harry cleared his throat and tried to put on what he hoped was a charming smile. 

As Dean passed by he whispered to Harry and Ron, “I’m not sure how to two of you managed to snag two of the prettiest girls in Hogwarts.”

“Pure animal magnetism,” Ron muttered.

Harry noticed as Dean and Seamus entered the Great Hall, that they didn’t seem to have dates.

“I’m gonna go in now, mate,” Ron said. “Good luck for the dance.”

As Ron disappeared behind the big wooden doors, Harry felt his stomach drop. _The dance._ Harry had forgotten all about it.

He snuck a look at Cho’s shoes and hoped they weren’t too expensive.

Looking around, Harry noticed that only the champions were left lingering outside the Great Hall. Cedric and Fleur seemed to be going together, as they were stood side-by-side in front of the doors, and Fleur was clinging onto Cedric’s arm.

Catching Harry’s eye, Cedric gave him a thumbs up and a smile. Trying to tamp down the jealousy bubbling in his gut, Harry returned the smile. Curiously, Krum didn’t seems to have a date. Harry would’ve thought it wouldn’t be a challenge to find one.

Returning his gaze back to Cedric and Fleur, he almost didn’t catch Cho gasping and saying, “She’s beautiful.”

Assuming she was talking about Fleur, Harry hummed in agreement. But when Cho tugged in his arm, he was forced to turn around to see Hermione descending down the steps.

Harry’s heart caught in his chest. _She was beautiful._

Hermione’s bushy hair had been tamed, and was twisted into a sleek updo. She was wearing a light pink fluffy dress that billowed around her as she walked, and as the light from the torches shone upon her, glitter glimmered around her eyes. 

Standing to attention, Krum walked up to her and bowed, before extending his hand. Grasping lightly onto his hand, she let Krum lead her towards the doors, where she beamed at Harry and gave a small wave.

Waving back, Harry couldn’t help the lightness of his heart as he saw how happy she was.

Suddenly, McGonagall appeared and ushered them into lines.

“Now don’t forget,” she said sternly, regarding Cedric and Harry, “The reputation only Hogwarts lies on your shoulders.”

With that, she swept off and the Great Hall doors opened to raucous applause.

“I can’t dance,” Harry whispered to Cho out of the corner of his mouth as they walked into the Great Hall.

“Oh dear,” Cho whispered back, “I can’t dance either, but I was hoping you could.”

Before they knew it, they were on the dance floor, and a slow dreary tune was playing.

“I think this is the part where you grab my waist,” Cho muttered.

“Oh, right,” Harry said, as he gently placed his hand on her waist, being careful not to go too low.

Slowly the pair rocked against each other, sneakily shooting looks at the other couples and copying their movements. Finally, as more couples flooded onto the dance floor, including Ginny and a blonde girl, Dean and Seamus, and Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall, the music changed to something more upbeat and Harry and Cho just started bouncing in place.

After a few more minutes of aimless jumping, Harry and Cho retired to the table where Ron and Parvati were sitting.

Giggling uncontrollably, Harry and Cho finally relaxed as they sat down on the sating covered chairs.

Turning to Ron to ask him why he wasn’t dancing, Harry was taken aback by the stormy look in Ron’s eyes. Following his line of sight, Harry realised he was glaring at Hermione and Krum.

Trying to diffuse the tension, Harry said, “Hermione certainly looks nice, doesn’t she?”

Ron merely grunted and continued sulking. Parvati seemed rather frustrated with Ron as she kept shooting him looks. After a while, she seemed to give up and let out a huff, simply die using to watch the other people having fun.

Sensing the awkward atmosphere, Cho led Harry away to another table where she attempted to strike up a conversation.

Harry tried for the first few minutes, he really did. But after Cho went on a rant about the inaccuracies of Horoscopes, and how Astrology was much better, Harry couldn’t help but go slack eyed.

He only perked you after hearing Flitwick announce the arrival of some band called The Weird Sisters. Cho perked up at the announcement too, gasping, “The Weird Sisters, I love them!”

Awkwardly standing up, Harry said, “Do... you want to dance?”

Sensing his discomfort, Cho settled back down, “Its alright. I’m still rather tired. I’ll dance later.”

“Oh. Alright then. I’m going to... go out for some fresh air for a while.”

As Harry left the Hall, he felt like kicking himself. Cho was practically the perfect girl, so why did Harry feel so eager to get away.

 _”Face it, Harry,”_ he thought to himself, _”Other than Quidditch, the two of you have nothing in common, and have no chemistry. Cho probably realised that too.”_

Settling down on the steps disheartenedly, Harry was startled by someone clearing their throat pompously. 

Harry spun around to see Malfoy, seated a few steps above him, sneering.

“What’s wrong Potter, date dumped you?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Harry retorted. Looking at Malfoy, he looked like a mess, his dress robes were discarded in a pile next to him, his tie was loose, and his hair looked messy, almost as if he’d been running his hands through his hair.

“What, Parkinson finally realised you weren’t good enough for her?” Harry carried on, feeling the anger behind his words building and building.

“As if,” Malfoy snorted, “She’s absolutely smitten with me. Too smitten. Little brat never leaves me alone. I told her to beat it and she had the gall to get upset.”

“You know Malfoy,” Harry said, “Maybe if you treated people with some respect, then more people would like you. You wouldn’t end up getting stuck with an arse kisser like Parkinson, or goons like Crabbe and Goyle who are too dumb to make their own decisions.”

“Whatever, Potter,” Malfoy scoffed, “What would you know about it. You barely have to try, and people instantly love you.”

“Well then clearly, you haven’t been paying attention,” Harry snapped. “First year, the Gryffindors hated me because I lost them so many house points, second year, the whole school hated me because they thought I was the heir of Slytherin, and this year, everyone hated me because they thought I cheated and put my name in the goblet.”

Malfoy had the good sense to shut his mouth, before finally grunting out, “I suppose you have a point, Potter.”

The two of them lapsed into silence for a while, when Harry heard a slower more romantic song drifting from the Great Hall. Plucking up whatever courage he had, he stood up and extended a hand to Malfoy.

“Care to dance?”

Harry wished he had a camera to capture the incredulous look on Malfoy’s face.

“Have you gone mental?”

“No, but I figured we both could use some cheering up,” Harry said boldly.

After a moment’s hesitation, Malfoy grasped Harry’s hand, much to his surprise.

Harry led Malfoy in a slow dance as they drifted back and forth, and after a while, Harry grew bold enough to pull Malfoy closer to him, resting his hand on his shoulder and waist. Shockingly, Malfoy slowly bent down to rest his head in Harry’s shoulder as the two of them rocked back in forth in what could be mistaken as a lover’s embrace. _”Tonight’s a night of surprises,”_ Harry thought numbly. 

As the slow music faded into something more upbeat, the fragile atmosphere between the two shattered, and they jumped apart.

Harry and Malfoy just stood there staring at each other, before Malfoy suddenly grabbed Harry by the lapels and pulled him closer. For a split second, Harry thought that Malfoy was going to kiss him, and panicked. Thankfully, all Malfoy did was pull Harry close to his face so he could whisper to him.

“Tell anybody about this, and I’ll make sure I give an exclusive interview to _The Daily Prophet_.”

“What’s going on?” 

A voice suddenly ringing out had Malfoy shoving Harry away from him.

Harry spun to see Fred regarding Malfoy with narrowed eyes.

“Nothing,” Malfoy sneered. “Just saying goodnight.”

And with that Malfoy stormed up the stairs, leaving behind a flushed Harry. In that split second when Harry thought Malfoy was going to song him, he didn’t know whether he wanted to or not. But when Malfoy pulled him close and whispered in his ear, his warm breath tickled Harry and that-

“Harry are you alright?”

Fred’s voice jolted Harry our of his thoughts.

“Y-yeah I’m fine,” Harry stammered. “Malfoy was just being the git that he always is.”

Fred nodded understandingly.

“Well I was actually hoping to catch you alone.”

“You were?” Harry asked.

“Yes. I was... well I was hoping we could have at least one dance together.”

“Really? Why?”

Fred shrugged and looked down at the floor.

“I don’t know. Just as mates I suppose.”

“Oh. Yeah of course.”

Harry made to reenter the hall but Fred stopped him. 

“Here is fine.”

With a big cheesy grin, Fred began to hop up and down and bounce his head. Shocked once mode by the sudden change in Fred’s demeanour, Harry stood there shell shocked.

Rolling his eyes, Fred grabbed Harry’s arm and twirled him around, causing Harry to let out a shocked laugh.

The two of them began dancing in earnest, quite terribly in fact. So terribly, that by the end of the song, the two of them were hunched over in stitches, both laughing at each other, and themselves. Wiping the tears from his eyes, Fred straightened up.

“Well, I suppose I’d better get back to Angelina.”

That sobered Harry up.

“Yeah, I suppose so. Good night Fred,” Harry rushed out before stalking off in the opposite direction.

Never before had Harry felt so confused and frustrated in his life. Harry slumped down on a bench in the courtyard and sighed. Why was everyone so complicated. Why couldn’t things just be straightforward. There was only one solution. Harry had to go back to the hall and try to strike things up with Cho again. Cho was simple. Cho made sense. But just as he was about to leave, he saw Cedric walking towards him. Harry groaned internally.

“Hi Harry,” Cedric said settling down next to him. “Cho wanted me to tell you that she’s gone back for the night.”

Harry dropped his head in his hands and sighed. Now things were completely ruined.

“Don’t worry about it, Harry,” Cedric reassured. “She said that she really did have fun tonight.”

As Cedric bumped against him gently, Harry felt something crinkle in his pocket. Reaching into his pocket, Harry drew out the purple corsage that Cedric had gifted him.

Mentally slapping himself, Harry groaned, “I didn’t even give her the corsage. Sorry Cedric,” he said miserably.

“It’s ok Harry, really,” Cedric said, rubbing his arm.

“Here,” Harry said, fastening the courage around Cedric’s wrist. “I suppose it’s right for me to give this to someone. Would be a waste otherwise.”

Cedric beamed as he looked at the flower on his wrist and as the moonlight illuminated his face, Harry thought he’d never seen anything more beautiful in his life. Looking up at Harry, Cedric’s eyes sparkled and before he could comprehend anything, Cedric had pressed his lips lightly against Harry’s.

Cedric’s lips were soft and warm, and Harry sighed, trying to get closer. Cedric slowly pulled away from Harry, and looked at him with so much love and adoration, that Harry started to shift uncomfortably under his gaze. 

“I suppose we ought to be getting back now,” Cedric said softly.

“Yes, I suppose so,” Harry said disappointedly. He so wanted to continue kissing Cedric.

But, as Harry got up to leave, Cedric’s hand circled his wrist gently. 

“Uh, have you solved the egg clue yet?” Cedric asked nervously.

“No, not yet. Why?”

“Well, come to the prefects bathroom next Friday. I’ll meet you outside, but in case you need to get in, the password’s _pine fresh_. And bring your egg.”

With that, Cedric and Harry patted ways, with Harry going back to the Great Hall, and Cedric heading to the Hufflepuff common room.

Harry walked back in a daze. What was all of that about? Had Cedric been... propositioning him? It seemed rather quick didn’t it. From a kiss to... going to a deserted bathroom together. But whatever was going to happen, Harry felt very eager to find out, and with his veins thrumming with energy, Harry walked towards the Great Hall, only to hear shouting.

“Next time there’s a ball, pluck up the courage and ask me before someone else does! And not as a last resort!” Hermione was yelling, sounding like she was on the verge of tears.

“W-well that’s besides the point,” Ron stammered. “Ah Harry!”

“And you!” Hermione shouted, turning to Harry, “Where have you been?”

“W-wha- I was just out-“

“Never mind! Off to bed the both of you!”

“They get worse the older they get,” Ron mumbled nastily, as he and Harry walked up the steps.

“Ron, you spoil everything!” Hermione yelled, the tears flowing freely down her face now.

The last of Hermione that Harry saw that night, was her hunched over on the steps, sobbing noisily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, Harry is getting some action. And my sincere apologies for once again, being so long with an update. I had a lot of projects and tests and I wanted to focus all my attention on school. But now since it’s the holidays, I’ll definitely have more time to write so look forward to more frequent uploads. Also, I’d like to ask whether you’d prefer to keep this story T, or if I should go to M or E. I am interested in exploring some of the more- uh- explicit parts of growing up, but I don’t know if that would make y’all uncomfortable. Please let me know


	23. Bathtubs and Bubbles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There’s a small content warning in the end notes. Check it out if you’re worried, but there will be minor spoilers in the end notes

The next week seemed to move by at a remarkably sluggish pace. The stress of the second trial drawing nearer faded into the background as Cedric began taking up more and more of Harry’s thoughts. That night after the Yule Ball, Harry had went to bed, and spent the whole night wide eyed and tossing and turning. He felt feverish as he recalled the kiss that he and Cedric had shared. 

Across the room, Harry knew Ron was awake as well, but for a wholly different reason.

The next morning as Harry settled down between his two friends for breakfast, he expected snide remarks, and back handed comments. Instead, Ron and Hermione were civil and polite. Too civil and polite. Harry could see it in the tense line of Hermione’s mouth, and the stiff posture of Ron, that things were not mended between them. Harry would have preferred the bickering, as opposed to the distant niceties.

However in a rather selfish manner, Harry found himself to be preoccupied with his own thoughts, instead of attempting to fix the relationship between his two best friends.

Harry’s mind kept drifting towards the implications of Cedric asking to meet him. At a toilet. Alone. 

Harry seriously hoped that he was not misinterpreting things, after all Cedric said that this was related to the clue. But still, to make an invitation like that, after a kiss like _that_. Turning red, Harry pushed the thoughts out of his head. Aunt Petunia would most certainly have a conniption if she knew the filthy ideas bouncing around in Harry’s head.

Trying his best to stay focused on his studies (not that that was ever a priority for Harry), he simply decided to put all his energy into school, and worry about it when the time came. 

That was, until the day that Harry, Ron, and Hermione made their way down to Care of Magical Creatures, to find the class gawking at them.

“What is it,” Ron whispered, “Surely we’re not that late.”

Malfoy swaggered up to them, an infuriatingly self-satisfied grin on his face, and a copy of _The Daily Prophet_ clutched in his hand.

“See for yourself,” he sniggered.

Snatching the paper out of his hand, Harry scanned it, and felt his blood run cold.

_The Boy Who Lived to be a Heartbreaker_

_Harry James Potter is well known as The Boy Who Lived, the boy, who vanquished you-know-who. But that boy, is now grown, and is discovering the pleasures of youthful indulgence._

_Many months ago, I, Rita Skeeter, met Harry Potter for the first time. I admit, I was a bit swept away by all of the fanfare surrounding him, that I was deceived by his vulnerable, yet courageous persona. I now see that that person, is not the Harry Potter I am writing about._

_Alone, in a beautiful dress, Cho Chang sits at a table, sipping a drink. You’d have thought that a girl as beautiful as her, would have a date. And she does, or rather, did. See, her date was none other than Harry Potter. The Harry Potter, who had now abandoned her to be with someone else. Who, you might ask? None other than Hermione Granger._

_You see, a few months ago I managed to capture an intimate embrace between Miss Granger and Harry Potter. I felt overjoyed for Harry at the time, as I thought he’d found a worthy companion, and had overcome his demons._

_I know see, that the Harry I knew, wasn’t the real Harry at all. The Harry I knew, wouldn’t have so carelessly jumped from one girl the next, paying no mind to the fallout from his actions._

The article carried on like this, and accompanying Rita Skeeter’s colourful words, were pictures. The picture of Harry and Hermione hugging, pictures of Harry and Hermione around school together, pictures of Cho alone, and to top it all off, a picture of Hermione crying on the steps.

“This is rubbish and you know it you ferret!” Ron bellowed, hurling himself at Malfoy.

Harry grabbed onto his arm and yanked him back sharply.

“I bet you had a good old time telling all those lies to her,” Harry snarled.

“What makes you think I did it?” Malfoy smirked.

Harry surged forward until him and Malfoy were almost nose-to-nose. 

“You know why,” Harry hissed.

A flicker of nervousness flashed in Malfoy’s eyes, but before either of them could do anything, they were pulled apart by a rather upset Hagrid.

“Now now, what’s all o’ this about?”

Harry and Malfoy spent the rest of the lesson glaring at each other, and any pity that Harry had felt for Malfoy evaporated. There was no way that Malfoy wasn’t behind this. Despite his limited interactions with Lucius Malfoy, Harry knew very well that he would not appreciate his son getting comfort from what he considered a _“blood traitor”_. No doubt, Malfoy was eager to overcompensate because of this. He always was a daddy’s boy.

The following days, Harry was met with glares from girls as he walked past them. A few boys came up to him and clapped his shoulders, hooting and hollering, but Harry just shook them off angrily. Thankfully, his friends seemed to know how that article was filled with lies. 

“Those of us who truly know you, will know you could never be a ladies’ man,” Seamus said sympathetically.

“Cheers, Seamus.”

However that didn’t mean that all those close to Harry hadn’t bought into the article. 

A couple of days later, Harry received a tearful letter from Mrs Weasley, saying how she fully believed Harry had been manipulated by “those shameless girls”. Hermione had also received a letter from Mrs Weasley, but this one wasn’t as kind. Mrs Weasley scolded and berated her over her “manipulation” of Harry, as well as her “unfaithfulness” to Krum, which Rita Skeeter had written a small paragraph about. As Hermione’s wide eyes welled up with tears, Harry couldn’t help but think that Mrs Weasley was being a bit of a hypocrite, giving Harry the benefit of the doubt and then completely ostracising Hermione. It was difficult to believe that Mrs Weasley turned so quickly against her.

Hermione bore it well, keeping her head up as girls giggled at her in hallways. But Harry could tell she was struggling to put on a brave front from the way her lip quivered as cruel words were thrown her way.

Quicker than he’d imagined, Friday had arrived. While passing by him in a hallway, Cedric slipped a note into his hand.

Stepping into an alcove, Harry read the note:

_Meet me outside the Prefect’s bathroom at 10 tonight._

Suddenly, it was a lot harder for Harry to ignore his intrusive thoughts.

Harry planned his excursion that night carefully. He’d been caught out of bed by Filch before and had no desire to recreate the experience. His most important aids were of course, his Invisibility Cloak, and the Marauder’s Map. They’d gotten him out of a large number of hairy situations, a lot more than he’d cared to admit.

Harry crept to the portrait hole and waited for Ron to open the portrait hole. Sure enough, the portrait swung open and Ron whispered to Harry as he snuck past, “Good luck.”

Moving around the cloak was an awkward endeavour. With the large golden egg clasped under his armpit, and the Marauder’s Map held in front of his nose. Harry also struggled to make sure that the Invisibility Cloak didn’t slip off his body. Harry definitely wasn’t as small as he was when he was eleven. 

After an ordeal of navigating through Hogwart’s winding corridors, Harry finally arrived to the Prefect’s bathroom to see Cedric outside the door, wrapped in a black cloak, head swivelling left and right nervously.

“Cedric,” Harry whispered.

Upon hearing Harry’s voice Cedric jumped up, eyes wide, looking around in the dark corridor for the source of the voice.

“I’m wearing an Invisibility Cloak,” Harry chuckled.

“Oh,” Cedric sighed relievedly, face markedly more pale than it had been. “Well, here goes nothing then, _pine fresh_.”

The door creaked open, and Harry slipped in, Cedric following behind him.

Tossing the heavy Invisibility Cloak off, Harry looked around the bathroom, and decided that becoming a prefect would be worth it just to use this bathroom. 

A golden chandelier hung from the ceiling, lighting the bathroom with a soft yellow glow. Everything was made of smooth, shiny white marble, including what looked like a large swimming pool which sunk into the middle of the floor. There were piles of lush, fluffy towels at the side of the swimming pool, and white linen curtains framed the windows. On one wall, a stained glass window of a mermaid with golden hair cast a rainbow beam of light onto the marble floor. The mermaid was resting on a rock, and every time she exhaled, her hair fluttered.

Harry set the egg and his map down, feeling unable to close his mouth, which had dropped open in awe.

He walked around, every step he took echoing around the bathroom.

“Pretty cool, eh?” Cedric asked with a lopsided grin, his voice shattering Harry’s stupor.

“Yeah,” Harry said, a little breathily. “I understand the appeal of being a prefect now.”

Cedric merely chuckled and walked towards the swimming pool, turning on some taps that surrounded it. The taps were golden and each were encrusted with a different coloured jewel. Harry immediately knew the taps carried different sorts of bubble baths mixed with water, though they weren’t any sort of bubble bath Harry knew of. 

One tap encrusted with a purple jewel spewed our pink and blue bubbles the size of footballs. Another tap encrusted with a clear jewel gushed out thick white foam that was so dense it looked like it could support Harry’s weight. And on and on, Cedric went around the swimming pool, turning on the taps until the swimming pool was filled to the brim with bubbles and foam of different colours, shapes, and scents. 

Cedric stood up satisfied, placing his hands on his hips.

“Well, that’s it then. Hop on in!”

With a cold sense of realisation, Harry finally understood why Cedric asked him here.

“I’m not having a bath in front of you!” Harry sputtered, face burning. A small part of Harry feared the worst, that Cedric had manipulated him here for the sole purpose of taking advantage of him.

But as Cedric’s eyes bugged out of his head, and he turned red and started stammering out an explanation, Harry knew his fears were unfounded.

“I-I... O-of course not! I’ll er- I’ll turn around,” Cedric stuttered. “You just er- Hop in. I’ll look away I swear! I’d just tell you the clue straight out, but I... I reckon you wouldn’t appreciate such a blatant act of charity. Er- anyway I’ll look away now.”

Despite himself, Harry felt amused. He never thought he’d see the day where Cedric would get flustered, and Harry felt a stab of pride that it was _him_ that caused Cedric to flush red.

Gingerly taking his pyjamas off and placing them on the floor, Harry hopped into the swimming pool and revelled as he soaked in the warm soapy water.

He splashed around joyfully for a few seconds, before realising he had no idea what to do next.

Picking up on his hesitation, Cedric helpfully supplied, “I’d try putting the egg underwater if I were you.”

“Ah, right.”

Swimming over to grab the egg, Harry slowly submerged it and opened it. However, this time the egg did not let out its signature wail. Instead what seemed like the gurgle of voices bubbled up to the surface of the water.

Cottoning on, Harry took a deep breath and dunked his head under, a chorus of eerie voices greeting him:

_”Come seek us where our voices sound,_  
_We cannot sing above the ground,_  
_And while you’re searching, ponder this:_  
_We’ve taken what you’ll sorely miss,_  
_An hour long you’ll have to look,_  
_And to recover what we took,_  
_But past an hour - the prospect’s black_  
_Too late, it’s gone, it won’t come back.”_

Emerging, Harry gasped for air and shook his hair out of his face.

“Did you hear it?” Cedric asked eagerly.

“Yeah, yeah something about... “Come seek us where our voices sound...” and possessions... hang on I’m going to listen again.”

It took Harry three listens to memorise the whole thing. Pondering hard, Harry trod water as he tried to figure out what the song meant.

“So... we’ve got to find people who can’t speak above ground? Who could that be?” Harry asked. “Argh I feel like such an idiot.”

“It’s alright, Harry,” Cedric replied amusedly, back still turned to Harry. “It took me ages to figure it out too.”

“Well... if the voices can only be heard underwater, then surely they must belong to underwater creatures.”

As Cedric nodded approvingly, Harry felt emboldened to continue. 

“Wait... besides the Giant Squid, what other creatures live in the black lake?” Harry’s eyes fell on the stained glass mermaid, as she rose up from her rock and winked at him. “Cedric do we need to fight _merpeople_?”

“Yes! You’ve got it!” Cedric said happily. “Wow, I thought it would take you a lot longer... Er... No offence it’s just it took me a really long time to figure it out. By the time I realised it was merpeople, all the bubbles in the swimming pool had disappeared and I was basically a prune!”

Harry chuckled as he slowly rose out of the pool, wiping the suds off him with one of the towels. He hurriedly dressed and rubbed his hair dry before clearing his throat.

“I’m dressed. You can uh- you can turn now.”

Cedric turned around, beaming, and Harry’s heart skipped a beat. Feeling a surge of bravery wash over him, Harry blurted out,” You know, it’s late. We might as well stay here for a while longer... together?”

Confusion flooded Cedric’s face for a moment, before clarity struck him, which soon made way for pity.

“Oh Harry, I’m sorry. I- I hope I didn’t give you the wrong impression when I invited you here. I just wanted to help you out with the clue. Seemed fair after you gave me the tip with the dragons.”

“Oh... oh I see.” 

Harry heart sank, and he felt sick with humiliation. Of course. There was no way that Cedric liked him. How could he, it would be unnatural. He wasn’t unnatural like Harry, he was the perfect man who didn’t fantasise about kissing other men. In fact, that night they kissed, it was probably Harry who initiated it without realising. 

Catching on to his spiral of dark thoughts, Cedric reached out a hand to steady Harry. 

“I just meant that- You’re young. You still are very clearly inexperienced about a lot of things and it just wouldn’t be fair for us to jump so quickly into a relationship. Do you understand?”

Harry’s head was spinning with Cedric’s words. After a moment, Harry looked up and said, “So... when we kissed... you wanted us to be together? Like... _together_ together.”

“Well yes but like I said, I realised how much younger you were and thought it would be a little creepy of me to come on too strong,” Cedric said sheepishly. “Sorry was I, not clear with my intentions?”

“Well, maybe you were, but I’m not exactly known for being observant,” Harry replied.

“Ah I see. Well, to clear the air,” Cedric said, clearing his throat, “Harry Potter, would you like to date me?”

“Yes,” Harry said, the biggest cheesiest grin on his face.

“That’s good,” Cedric said with a sigh of relief. “We don’t have to be boyfriends yet, we can just- test the waters out first.”

“Yeah that sounds good to me. Hey, there’s a visit to Hogsmeade coming up. Want to go together? Er, Ron and Hermione will be coming with us but I figured it’ll still be a good time for us to spend time together.”

“Yeah, yeah that sounds good,” Cedric smiled.

“Great! But um... I’d appreciate if you didn’t tell anyone about us... not yet at least. I’m guessing you’ve seen the _Daily Prophet_ article?”

“Yeah I have. Don’t worry Harry I fully understand.”

“Great,” Harry said with a smile. But deep down, Harry knew that wasn’t the only reason he wanted nobody to know. A deep stab of shame still ran through him, and he couldn’t help but hear Aunt Petunia’s shrill words echoing at him as he thought about how soft Cedric’s lips had been, and how sweet he’d been to Harry. Harry couldn’t help but wonder, had he really fallen as far as Jason? 

Shaking off his thoughts, he gathered all of his things, but just as he was about to put his Invisibility Cloak on, he paused.

“Hey Cedric, is it ok if you kiss me again?”

With a shy smile, Cedric cupped Harry’s face and leaned in, pressing their lips together in a chaste kiss. Even thought it was no where near as deep as their first kiss, Harry couldn’t stop the shivers that travelled up his spine.

Breaking away with a grin, Harry threw his cloak on and opened the door.

He peeked left and right before whispering to Cedric, “It’s clear.”

Cedric tiptoed out of the door and closed it as gently as he could, wincing as an inevitable creak echoed throughout the corridor. 

“Hurry, Harry,” he whispered. “I’d hate for you to get caught!”

“What about you?” Harry asked.

“I’ll be fine,” Cedric insisted. “I’m a prefect, if I get caught I can just say I was doing patrols or something.”

“Ok then... goodnight, Cedric.”

“Goodnight, Harry.”

As Harry and Cedric went their separate ways down the corridor, Harry checked the Marauder’s Map, pleaded to see that the only one who seemed to be out, other than him and Cedric, was Peeves who was voicing around the trophy room the floor above him.

However, something in his periphery caught his attention. Peeves apparently wasn’t the only one out. A single pair of footprints were hovering outside Snape’s office, but they weren’t labelled “Severus Snape”... it was “Bartemius Crouch”.

Harry stared in surprise as Mr Crouch paced in front of the office. What on earth was he doing in Hogwarts in the middle of the night?

Harry knew it would be dangerous, he knew he should just go straight to bed, but his curiosity got the best of him.

He turned around and headed straight for Snape’s office.

As Harry walked down the stairs, he kept glancing at his map. It just made no sense for the straight-laced Mr Crouch to be sneaking around someone’s office late at night.

He was so engrossed with the map, that Harry forgot about the trick step Neville’s forgot to jump. His leg sank right into it an he wobbled, holding back a yelp. So preoccupied he was on not falling, that Harry loosened his grip on the egg, and the egg still damp from the bath slipped right out of his hands. The egg managed the impressive feat of hitting every single stair on it’s way down, each louder than the last.

Harry lunged to catch it, but as a result his Invisibility Cloak slipped and as Harry righted it, the Marauder’s Map fluttered out of his grasp. 

Just then, the egg reached the bottom of the staircase and popped open, letting out its screeching wail. Harry winced at the shrill sound and desperately tried to reach the Marauder’s Map to wipe it, but with his leg still stuck in the stair he couldn’t.

“PEEVES!”

Harry hurriedly drew the Invisibility Cloak tighter around himself as the unmistakeable shriek of Filch pierced the air.

“What’s this racket? Wake up the whole castle, will you? I’ll have you, Peeves, I’ll have you, you’ll... and what is this?”

Filch’s shuffling footsteps stopped at the foot of the stairs. There was a scrape of metal against metal, and the screeching stopped.

“Egg?” Filch said softly. “My sweet! This is a Triwizard clue! This belongs to a school champion!” 

Mrs Norris hissed.

Harry felt sick, his heart racing.

“PEEVES!” Filch roared gleefully, “You’ve been stealing!”

Filch spun around and hissed, “Hiding are you? Don’t worry, I’ll find you soon enough.”

And slowly, step by step Filch walked up the staircase, his eyes swivelling around, a triumphant grin on his face.

Harry held his breath in anticipation as Filch drew nearer, and nearer to him. Either Filch would find the Marauder’s Map, or he would walk straight into Harry. Neither option seemed all that attractive to Harry at the moment.

Desperately pulling at his stuck leg, Harry resorted himself to a painful demise when he was saved by the only person who could make his situation worse.

“Filch? What’s going on?”

Snape looked livid.

Filch paused in his steps, just centimetres away from Harry, and turned to face Snape.

“It’s Peeves, sir,” Filch grinned malevolently. “He threw this egg down the stairs.”

Snape gritted his teeth and stomped up the stairs. Harry’s heart caught in his throat. He held his breath, wishing his heart wasn’t pumping quite so loud.

“Peeves?” Snape asked quietly, eyeing the egg. “But Peeves couldn’t get into my office...”

“This egg was in your office, sir?”

“Of course not!” Snape snapped. “I heard all the banging and wailing and came to investigate. But when I came down a cupboard door was ajar and the torches were lit. Someone has been searching it!”

“But Peeves couldn’t-“

“I very well know he couldn’t!” Snape hissed, his face turning beet red. “Only a Wizard could break the sealing enchantment I cast on my door. I want you to come down with me, and search for the intruder.”

“Well- yes Professor but you see... The headmaster will have to listen to me this time. Peeves has been stealing from a student, the headmaster will have to choice but to throw Peeves our. Once and for all!”

“I don’t give a damn about that wretched poltergeist,” Snape snarled. “It’s my office that-“

_Clunk. Clunk. Clunk._

Snape stopped mid-sentence. Through the narrow gap in theirs heads, Harry saw Moody hobble into view.

“Did I miss the party invitation?” Moody growled.

“Professor Snape and I heard noises, Professor. Peeves the poltergeist, throwing things around as usual- and then Professor Snape found out someone broke into his-“

“Shut up!” Snape hissed to Filch.

Moody took a step closer. His magical eye brushed past Snape before fixing on Harry.

His blood went cold. _Moody could see through Invisibility Cloaks._

For a moment, Harry and Moody stared at each other. Moody’s mouth only dropped open an inch, nothing else conveying his surprise at the sight before him.

Finally, Moody tore his eyes away to address Snape, “Someone broke into office, Snape? Did I hear that right?”

“Yes,” Snape said through gritted teeth. “But that is unimportant.”

“Oh, I’d argue the opposite. Who’d want to break into your office?”

“A student I daresay. It has happened before. Potion ingredients have gone missing from my storage cupboards... Students trying to concoct illicit potions, no doubt.”

“Is that so?” Moody’s eyes swung over to stare at Harry, and he shifted uncomfortably, remembering that night with Fred all too well.

“Well, is that all you think they were after?” Moody said, eyes shifting back to Snape and fixing him with a steely glare.

Snape’s eyes darkened dangerously. “You know I’m not hiding anything,” he said lowly, “You’d know, considering you’ve searched my office very thoroughly yourself.”

“Well, you’d understand why an Auror like me would be a tad suspicious. I know better than anyone that there are just some _spots_ that don’t come off. D’you know what I mean?”

Snape jerked and grabbed his left forearm, as if he’d suddenly been burnt.

“Get back to bed Snape,” Moody chuckled darkly. “I look forward to meeting you in a dark corridor some other time... you’ve dropped something by the way.”

With a stab of horror, Harry realised that Moody was pointing at the map. Deciding to throw caution to the wind, Harry raised his arms under the Invisibility Cloak and flailed them around wildly. _“It’s mine! It’s mine!”_ Harry gestured.

But it was too late. Snape was reaching out for it, a look of comprehension dawning on his face-

“ _Accio_ parchment!”

The map slipped right out of Snape’s grasp and flew into Moody’s hand.

“My mistake,” he said coolly, “It’s mine. I must have dropped it earlier.”

But Snape was staring back and forth, from the egg to the piece of parchment. He was putting two and two together.

“Potter,” he said under his breath.

“What was that?”

“Potter!” Snape said, spinning wildly, “That’s his egg, and that’s Potter’s parchment. He’s here somewhere! In his Invisibility Cloak!”

Snape began grasping out in the air blindly, Harry leaned back to avoid Snape’s touch but it was inevitable. Any moment now...

“There’s nothing there Snape!” Moody barked. “But I’ll be sure to tell the Headmaster how you seem to be out for Potter’s head.”

“I’m merely looking out for his safety,” Snape sneered. “This isn’t the first time Potter’s pulled a stunt like this.”

“I see... Looking out for Potter are you?”

The two flared at each other, locked in an almost comical staring contest.

“I think I will go back to bed,” Snape said coldly, breaking his gaze away from Moody’s.

“Yes, you’d better,” Moody growled.

Snape turned on his heel and stalked away, Filch and Mrs Norris close behind.

After a few moments, they heard a door slam and Moody turned to Harry.

“Close shave, eh?”

“Yes, thank you Professor,” Harry sighed, removing the Invisibility Cloak from himself.

Looking down at the map still clutched in his hand, Moody’s good eye widened. 

“What is this?”

“It’s er... a map of Hogwarts Professor.”

“Remarkable,” Moody said softly. “So did you see anyone outside of Snape’s office?”

“Yes, I did- can you help me out?” Harry tugged at his leg which was still stuck in the step.

“Oh- yes,” Moody yanked Harry out, and he wobbled unsteadily before shooting Moody a grateful glance.

“So who did you see?”

Hesitating, Harry figures that if he had to trust someone with information like this, it would be Moody.

“I saw Mr Crouch, sir.”

Moody’s eye widened in shock. He peered down at the map before and whispered, “Fascinating.”

“Do you know why he was here, Professor?” Harry asked, itching to know more. He knew Moody was hiding something from him. The way Moody’s eyes had lit up when he mentioned Mr Crouch...

“Let’s just say, that the people who call me mad, know nothing about Mr Crouch,” Moody chuckled darkly.

“But, why was he investigating Professor Snape?”

“He was suspicious,” Moody growled. “He had a right to be. There’s nothing I hate more than a dark wizard who went free.”

Mouth dropping open in shock, Harry gasped at Moody. Was he confirming something that Harry had speculated wildly about for years? Was Snape a Death Eater?

“I think it’s time we had our second lesson,” Moody growled. “I’ll get back to you soon about when and where we’ll do it.”

“Thank you Professor,” Harry rushed out gratefully. He had so many questions, questions that Moody had staunchly ignored when asked. Why did the Imperio curse not work on the dragon? What summoned Harry’s broom to him? And most of all, how could you capture the effects of an Unforgivable curse. It was with a stab of guilt, that Harry then realised he had paid practically no mind to his line of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes products. That would change, Harry promised himself resolutely. He would deliver a fantastic line of products to Fred and George, and they wouldn’t see him as completely useless.

“Oh, and by the way,” Moody said, “Mind if I keep this?” He flapped the map around. “This just might be the thing I’ve been needing...”

“O-of course!” Harry replied. He figured he owed Moody at least that.

Moody turned around and started limping away, before pausing and turning to face Harry again. 

“You know Potter, I think you’d make a great Auror. I think you’ve got all the right stuff for it. I wouldn’t mind working with you one day.”

Turning red, Harry stammered out, “T-thank you Professor, it would be an honour to work with you one day.”

Moody grunted and said, “Well you should hurry on to bed now. What were you even doing out here?”

“Solving the clue, sir,” Harry said, picking up the egg from the floor, where Filch left it.

“I see, were you alone?”

“Yes,” Harry lied. There seemed no point in implicating Cedric as well.

“Well nothing like a late night stroll to clear the mind,” Moody winked, before turning around again and clunking off into the darkness.

Harry hurriedly wrapped himself back up in his Invisible Cloak and made his way back to the Gryffindor common room. What was Mr Crouch looking for in Snape’s office? Was Snape really a Death Eater? And would Harry actually make a good Auror? He wasn’t going to lie, being an Auror seemed like an attractive prospect, but Harry decided he’d wait to see how scarred they all were by graduation, before making any career choices.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What’s up, so just a warning for this chapter, Harry does go down a pretty dark spiral. It’s a very minuscule part of the chapter but I figured a lil warning wouldn’t hurt. Also, I’ve decided to keep Harry and Cedric’s relationship completely PG. For this story at least. The age difference is just something I’m waaay too uncomfortable with. Hope I didn’t disappoint any of y’all


End file.
